


Death Without Solace

by honii_bee (sunii_cafe)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Background Relationships, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Dangan Ronpa Spoilers, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Relationships, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Komaeda Nagito Being Komaeda Nagito, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Major Character Injury, Monokuma (Dangan Ronpa) Being An Asshole, Multi, Nonbinary Shinguji Korekiyo, Oma Kokichi Being Oma Kokichi, POV Alternating, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rare Pairings, References to Canon, References to Illness, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Starvation, Suffering Gonta Gokuhara, Swearing, Tags May Change, They/Them Pronouns for Fujisaki Chihiro, Unrequited Love, me @ gonta: arent u tired of being nice.... dont u wanna go apeshit, stares at kaito
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 114,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27562282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunii_cafe/pseuds/honii_bee
Summary: Gonta hates the bear. He hates it, hehatesit, and he realizes something—two things, he realizes two things and they almost make him dribble shampoo into his forever-glaring eyes.Gonta hasneveralluded to the word 'hate'. Furthermore, Gonta hasneverhated something as much as hehatesthe bear.He's neverhated.A look of distress crosses his features. The emotion was new,fartoo new for his liking. He didn't know what it was like to actuallyhatesomeone. To not exaggerate the word, as he'd seen Kaito do thousands upon thousands of times in the past.- - - -The dead are given another chance at life. For a price, that is.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede & Gokuhara Gonta, Fujisaki Chihiro & Ishimaru Kiyotaka & Owada Mondo, Gokuhara Gonta & Komaeda Nagito, Gokuhara Gonta & Oma Kokichi, Gokuhara Gonta & Tojo Kirumi, Gokuhara Gonta/Oma Kokichi (One-Sided), Gokuhara Gonta/Shinguji Korekiyo, Gokuhara Gonta/Tanaka Gundham, Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo, Oma Kokichi & Tojo Kirumi, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 95
Kudos: 209





	1. Prologue: The Upbringing Of Despair

**Author's Note:**

> n e ways this is my first work in this fandom and i was UPSET over everyone i loved dying so here we are.
> 
> me: okay let's bring them back to life :D  
> also me: make them suffer again :,,D
> 
> [bumped up rating to explicit due to death & other things!]

Gonta is, by all means, someone who values honesty. It's a core trait in gentlemen, in a _decent person_ , if Shuichi's advice was anything to go off of; and it was, it really was, because Shuichi knew what a gentleman was, regardless of how often he discarded such claims.  
  
Shuichi was a gentleman, and Gonta wanted to learn everything from him. And, in a way, he only scratched the surface of that sheet. If only Kokichi was a little nicer, a little less manipulative and just.. _a gentleman_ , yes, if only Kokichi was a _gentleman_ , Gonta would've learnt more, so much more, so much that he wouldn't know what the do with some of the information.

( _Gonta_ _'s playing the blame game again. There's nothing else to do._ )  
  
Regarding the situation they'd been thrown into without much fanfare, that was to be expected. He didn't know that he was, originally, just a slab of fiction for people to observe, to love and root for, only to have their hearts pummeled by the reality of what Danganronpa was; it was a pattern that was strictly followed throughout ever single installment, and they should've seen it coming from the beginning.  
  
Denial is one hell of a drug, it would seem, and that was the only reason the show flourished. Because people wanted to watch real; or fake, it didn't matter to the audience members when they immersed themselves enough; people go through their own hardships, be it by themselves or with the help of another.  
  
Some characters never reached that point, and that's what made Danganronpa fall short. People grew restless with thoughts plaguing their mind of one of their favorite characters dying, sitting awake and thinking about the bets they'd placed on them and the debt they'd be swimming in the very next afternoon.  
  
So, wisely, the original host planned for this to happen. Every execution was scripted, all to coordinate with everyone's personalities and interests and _desires_ before the game even begun; which was why Leon was pummeled by his worst enemy (but his first love; baseballs, baseballs and more baseballs and then the _indecision_ because of all the things that came with it), why Mondo was liquefied on that motorcycle, why Celeste was given the illusion that her death would be grand, _only to be lied to and die like a commoner._  
  
All of it was planned, because the original host knew that these children, the children she went to school with and chatted idly with, would succumb. She left that mark on the world, filling it with emotions that were beyond human comprehension; feral, raw emotion that burnt anyone who tried to tame it, to cull it for the better or the worst.  
  
And it was supposed to end, to have no more seasons, no more airings and no more episodes. But someone, a cheeky little someone who couldn't help themselves, wanted things to continue, if only for their own entertainment.  
  
In a world where people lie and cheat and steal, the truth is cloaked by what cannot be comprehended.  
  
In such a world, despair was one of, if not the only truth. And everyone would understand that, whether they want to or not.  
  
They have no say in the matter. They never did.  
  
The people were real _that_ time, in a way. You could never be too sure.  
  
However, Gonta was.. a person. Someone with flesh, bones, all the things a normal entity would have. A human entity, because trees weren't stuffed full of flesh; not normally, anyways, because trees did not produce the same things as humans. Two very different entities that existed for different reasons and fed off of different things.  
  
Gonta was a person. A living, breathing person, and that baffled him to no end.  
  
The male was, by no means, someone who disregarded life. In fact, he thrived in it, taking in every little pleasantry and misfortune that he happened to come across; the dead bugs, the failed projects, flowers, butterflies, he took it all in. It was because of his upbringing, mostly, that brought on this affection for nature, but it wasn't like it was something people often looked into.  
  
He was a human, and that's all that mattered. A talented human who prevented fatalities that'd come from bugs so often to the point where it made _no logical sense._  
  
Gonta was capable of making mistakes, he knew that for sure. A mistake; when he went back to his human family and they verbally degraded his former lifestyle, when he accepted fictional characters as gentlemen (Shuichi told him that they were fake, and he'd believe him no matter the circumstances), when he played right into Kokichi's hands and—  
  
The entomologist felt his chest heave at the thought of the tiny liar. His heart hurt for all the wrong reasons, and he discarded the thought fruitlessly. He was a gentleman, a sweetheart, but he wouldn't forget what happened to him. What happened to everyone _before_ him, like when he wrapped that toilet paper around Miu's throat and _pulled._  
  
That's what Shuichi said he did, and he believed him. Even if he didn't know what was happening, he'd believe the Ultimate Detective for the rest of his life.  
  
Maybe that's why he felt so hollow, the very same emotion he felt when he died.  
  
Wasn't he dead? Dead people don't overthink, right, or maybe he was _overthinking about that, too?_ Gonta didn't know and he was left to scratch at whatever else he could recall from the killing game he'd participated in; willingly, at that, according to how compliant he'd been with having his memories swiped from him.  
  
.. If that was the truth, that is. All he'd done was watch Shuichi attempt to rid himself of his own fears after each death, although Gonta was pleasantly surprised when an impromptu sculpture had been placed in front of _his_ lab—just a dung beetle that had, most likely, been obtained at the casino.

It's the thought that counts.  
  
Shuichi left it there and, surprisingly, people would settle down in front of it and remain silent. They'd just sit there, with Shuichi leading some sort of prayer or something—Angie left her mark on everyone there, and it was apparent with how the little memorial service had been going thus far—with their heads bowed and their hands wrung.  
  
It was a solemn moment that lasted only a minute, then they'd move to the next lab's memorial and repeat it all over again. Gonta appreciated it, even if he had no way of contacting them now. Not when he was dead.  
  
Supposedly. Dead people don't breathe, they just lay there and stare off into the distance with vacant gazes--or panicked, like how Kirumi's eyes had been after she fell from such a height. She'd been crying on her way down, screaming and wailing her lungs dry until it all ended with a sickening crack.  
  
And they all watched her fall, because they, too, feared for their lives. Kaede was first, then Kirumi, then it just continued to get worst and worst until just about everyone was dead. And Gonta sat there, watching them with a vacant gaze, because he had no control over his emotions when he was dead.

_(..Gonta vaguely recalls Kokichi's death. He feels like he's frowning.)_  
  
... He's not supposed to be thinking like this. Prior to this moment, ever since he was impaled and stung and _burnt_ _alive_ , Gonta hadn't had a smidgen of a thought, not even a tiny _speck_ of sentience. His face remained relaxed at all times, eyes staring off into the distance without any real purpose.  
  
And, now, Gonta could hear his own voice in his head, speaking out his thoughts, how things should've been, how they _were,_ and he felt overwhelmed in a sense. So overwhelmed, in fact, that he rose his hands to cover his ears.

He did not expect to _feel_ , and that only worsened his intrusive thoughts.  
  
His palms were warm, as opposed to the usual lack of sensation and overall numbness he'd feel. One would assume that he'd always feel warm, concerning the fact that, much like Celeste and Korekiyo, Gonta was afflicted with many burn-related injuries that led to his (over-the-top, but understandable concerning his overall endurance to such things) death.  
  
That was not the case.  
  
Death was foul and anything that felt distinctly alive was eliminated. From what Gonta knew, anyways, because he didn't study death. He only experienced it, and it was foul and he never wanted to go through it again.

_(He felt like he was reciting another's words, and, maybe, he was.)_  
  
Warmth was something living entities could obtain. It took mere moments for his corpse to gather dust and, eventually, be dampened and left to cool in the shade of a medical ward. The pain had felt like hours, but his body had been desecrated within minutes.  
  
It hurt. It hurt a lot.  
  
Silently, his hands slid down from his ears and found themselves going downwards to his torso. If his hands felt warm and his clothes felt smooth, that definitely meant something, because he'd been suspended in this dark, cold locale for too long. He hated it, he absolutely _hated it_ more than he thought he would and there was no sense of peace for him there.  
  
There was no hole in his torso, and his hands felt warm. His clothes felt warm, too; almost inviting, _almost_ , if he didn't recall being burnt alive in said clothing. An involuntary shudder rode down his spine, prompting him to shred the thought immediately after allowing it to reside in his head.  
  
There was no hole in his torso.  
  
Gonta felt like screaming. So, understandably so, he opened his mouth and attempted to do so. His throat ached from years of neglect, having not been hydrated ever since his tongue had shriveled up in his mouth and decayed with the rest of him.  
  
There was no spit to swallow.  
  
_Then_ he choked on his spit, and the darkness of the locale vanished before his very eyes. And it hurt, it hurt so much, because his throat was still dry and he'd inhaled his own spit and swallowed it like it was some sort of remedy; even when it did nothing, even when he _knew_ it'd do nothing.  
  
Something tugs on his sleeve and Gonta feels sick. He _feels_ something again, and it is sickness.

( _Gonta is dead. For such a long time, he'd been dead, not even seeing anyone else. Nobody was in this void. Nobody was settled down, watching the others pray for them in a place where prayers did nothing, as proven by Angie's untimely demise and Kaede's unfair death. Gonta.. is dead. Nobody was there to see him.)_  
  
It takes a moment for him to realize that his face scrunched up, and the need to scream--the need to make a noise, to prove that he's _alive_ \--throttles him once more.

Yet, once again, he is quite sure the sound cannot come out.

_(Gonta is incorrect.)_

* * *

There is a reason why you should never bring dead people back from the grave. A multitude of reasons, actually, but one of them is rather simple: there will always, _always_ be a storm before the calm, no matter how you bring them back.  
  
There is no such thing as 'calm' upon realizing that your body is no longer rotting away, nor does such a word exist when they have been _aware_ of their death, reliving it in their head over and over again as their own eternal damnation.  
  
Calmness does not exist.  
  
Gonta is an example of this. He thought he was dead and, in his final moments, had come to terms with that as he was stung and stabbed and _burned_ _alive_. However, once he came to, he realized many things—all of which were alarming and, as a result, frightened him.  
  
His skin isn't charred and his face isn't bloated and there's no gaping hole in his chest and he's _very sure that that screaming was coming from him._

Oh. Gonta was _screaming._  
  
The scream ends as fast as it begins, his throat crackling in protest to the sudden strain as he coughs into his arm. It burns in the worst way possible, making his tongue feel like sandpaper against the bottom of his mouth as it absentmindedly runs over his teeth—they're still there, they didn't fall out of anything, and his tongue is there, too.  
  
Gonta feels sick and confused.  
  
When he tries to speak to himself, a small wisp of air leaves his mouth—a wheeze, he could only muster a mere _wheeze_ because he'd been dead for so long. How long had he been sitting in that void? How long did it take for his body to _finally wither away?_  
  
He finds himself not wanting the answer to either questions.  
  
Hurried footsteps resonate from wherever happens to be outside of the locale Gonta had awakened in—could it be called 'awakened'? After all, he'd been dead for more than just a couple of months and, personally, believed that everything smelt putrid. Like a steadily growing fungus that crept through the seeps and cracks of an old building.  
  
Gonta blinks warily, gaze unfocused and bleary. He doesn't know where _that_ came from. Once again, he doesn't think he wants to know.  
  
Not yet; not when he's still pulling himself out of a state of absolute _shock_.  
  
There's a loud creak that fills the silence of the room, and Gonta's head snaps up to attention. With such an erratic move, he recognizes that his locale, this classroom, looks far too similar for his liking. The thought of being dragged into the same situation that made him perish (and, most likely, would cause the same exact result because he wasn't smart and couldn't do anything right in this department) worsened his sickness.  
  
He figures he might start emptying his stomach, even if it's empty.  
  
For a moment, nobody pokes their head into the opened door, merely leaving it ajar. Cautiously, Gonta scoots back in his chair--one that's a bit too small and cramped for his liking, but he wasn't about to complain about a _chair_ of all things--and the noise is near deafening. He goes to stand, but it cut off by a familiar face peering at him.  
  
He can't help himself when he speaks; "Tojo-san?"  
  
She blinks at him, lips drawn in a straight line. Not one to bask in silence, Gonta took a step away from the desk he'd been laying on and continued to talk. "G-Gonta is.. happy to see Tojo-san again."  
  
( _Isn't she dead? Does this mean Gonta's in.. Hell?!)_  
  
Kirumi remains silent, eyes scanning Gonta's broad form. Then she reveals herself fully, bowing slightly and prompting Gonta to hurriedly return the favor. Her expression is as kind as it is indifference. "It's wonderful to see you in good health, Gokuhara-kun."  
  
She wrings her hands together soon after the greeting is done, capturing Gonta's wary gaze with one of firmness. "Physical health, I mean," she corrects, "as I am sure that you, too, are confused by these circumstances. We all are."  
  
( _We..?_ )  
  
Kirumi must've noticed the look of confusion on his face, because she places a hand over her heart and bows once more. A lot more formal and lady-like than Gonta ever could be, he was sure. "Forgive me for not explaining the situation in depth, Gokuhara-kun. You see.. we're not the only ones present. There are others present."  
  
For a moment, Gonta's thoughts betray his better judgement.  
  
( _Others? Is Kokichi here?_ )  
  
His eyes narrow and his stoic-neutral expression worsens; it becomes more of a grimace than anything. The thought was shredded _hastily_. Kirumi was kind enough to not question it, wringing her hands together once more and rising from her bowed position.  
  
Then, tentatively, Gonta takes another step away from the desk. Kirumi remains dormant, eyes scanning his every movement to deduce what his next move would be. She was _far_ more analytical than he remembered her being; or maybe she'd always been like that, but just didn't live long enough to express such a trait. Regardless, she was a statue in that moment, gaze collected yet terrifyingly calculating.  
  
There's a twinge of softness in her irises, hidden behind that layer of indifference.  
  
"Can.." He swallows some spit, throat dry and malnourished. "Can Gonta.. join Tojo-san?"  
  
When he gets a nod in response, Gonta feels (almost) instantaneous relief.

* * *

As soon as Kirumi guides Gonta out of the room, he notices several things; one, it's an exact copy, if not the same place the two had resided in the killing game ( _thinking about it bothered him greatly, reminding him of the lies shoved upon him by two individuals_ ). He's tempted to stepping back into the room, hiding there until further notice, until he wakes up from this nightmare, but he defies himself.  
  
Secondly, it smells putrid. Gonta's unsure if it was a result of a _person_ or a filthy foreground, but it smelt bad. Kirumi's shoulders remained squared all the while, eyes staring forward. Her nose twitched slightly, but that was the only sign of recognition she gave towards the scent. Otherwise, she remained proper, gesturing for Gonta to follow after her.  
  
Only after a minor bout of hesitation did he comply.  
  
Finally, Gonta is very sure that he can hear people; loud people, quiet people, all types of people. Regardless of their type, they're all clamoring and he can practically _see_ the panicked aura wafting through the locale. A simpler, calmer part of his conscious recons the smell is coming from the panic.  
  
"Everyone else has congregated in the dining hall." Kirumi stops in front of a pair of double doors, although the coloring is rusted and old—nothing like the well-painted ones from before. They looked far older, far less.. pristine. "We're all in the same state, but I've done my best to accommodate for everyone's needs. So far, nobody's too difficult to please, lest they're someone.. who is less than a desirable person."  
  
Gonta dislikes her wording, hence why he says nothing. He looks at the doors again, and she understands. One of them is gingerly slid open, the chattering coming to a slow halt, almost as if all eyes were trained on Kirumi's sudden presence. Gonta stays behind her, fists clenched at his sides.  
  
It's quiet for a long moment.  
  
"Oh, Tojo-san!" A voice cuts through the silence; soft, delicate, _someone Gonta doesn't know_. "You're back! Did you find anything?"  
  
"A person." Kirumi waves Gonta over. He, hesitantly, steps forth and several people enter his field of sight. There are a _lot_ of people, far more than before.  
  
A reasonably buff dude is the first to acknowledge him, seemingly attempting to size him up from afar. Regardless of this fact, Gonta is well-aware of the fact that he could loom over the former; but he wouldn't, because that wasn't gentlemanly.  
  
"Another big guy? Whoever's putting us up to this is just _asking_ to be pummeled." He huffs and crossed his arms over his chest, gaze flicking to the side.  
  
The male at his side; who is slightly smaller, but has furrowed brows that are baffling to look at; observes him closely, not at all put off by the other's words. "Are you sure that's the last person in this establishment?" His voice is a lot louder than Gonta thought it'd be. "Has every room been thoroughly investigated, Ms. Tojo?"  
  
The female in question nods, placing a hand on Gonta's shoulder and smoothing out a wrinkle. "Every locale accessible. Gokuhara was the last one to be found."  
  
"Did someone say _Gokuhara?!_ "  
  
Gonta doesn't like that voice. Too familiar, too annoying, too _ungentlemanly._  
  
It's out of character for him to be disapproving of someone's presence, but he has every right to feel the way he feels. Especially when this person happened to very openly state that he had been fake-crying over his death.  
  
( _Gonta killed Miu out of free-will, quit pinning it on Kokichi. Gonta could've stayed to the side. Gonta could've been alive._ )

( _Stop blaming him for everything._ )  
  
Kokichi's all-too-familiar face pops up from behind the first guy. With the steadiness of a toddler, he scurries over towards the hulking mass of muscle and tangled, knotted hair. "I had a feeling you'd be here, since the cum dumpster's on duty and everything!" A wave of discomfort washes over Gonta when the former attempts to latch onto his arm, instead looking over at Kirumi for some form of solace.  
  
Once again, she understands, and shoo's Kokichi away from Gonta. "Do whatever you wish to do on your own time. We must begin introductions, as Ishimaru-kun has instructed."  
  
The small liar goes to rebut her statement, only to be cut off by the loud, uniformed male; who is, apparently, named 'Kiyotaka'. "Please, call me Taka." He clears his throat, standing tall ( _albeit Gonta was using that word generously_ ). "Now that everyone is present, I believe that I'll start! My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the Ultimate Moral Compass!"  
  
A small grunt can be heard from the broader male standing beside him. "... Mondo Oowada, Ultimate Biker Gang Leader. Nice to fuckin' meetcha." Kiyotaka smacks Mondo on the arm lightly, but nothing else is exchanged between the two.  
  
"I'll go next," the voice from before chirps. It belongs to a small.. girl? Boy? Gonta really can't tell, but he's guessing that they're a female if he's just going off of the uniform choice. "My name is Chihiro Fujisaki. I'm.. the Ultimate Programmer. I hope we can all get along!"

No, Gonta can't pin it down. Maybe he'll ask them about it later on.  
  
Regardless of what Kirumi instructed him to do, Kokichi decides to lean on Gonta; almost as if he were a podium, lacking any of the excitement that'd been present mere seconds ago. That was probably all just an act, if he was thinking reasonably about all of this. "Man, you're already pretty boring," he clicked his tongue. "Whatever; I'm Kokichi Ouma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader!"  
  
"What does that even mean..?" A blue-haired girl murmurs, all before shaking her head and smiling at everyone else. "Oh, well, I'm Sayaka Maizono. Ultimate Pop Sensation."  
  
Gonta had no idea what that meant. A few people seemed to know, though, so maybe he could ask about it later.  
  
And the introductions would continue; people stating their ultimate after their name and, occasionally, adding in their own little comments on either themselves or the person who'd gone before them. No fights broke out, although Leon muttered something _especially_ mean about Sayaka when the clamoring showed signs of starting back up.  
  
Kiyotaka clapped his hands, gradually gaining the attention of the mingling individuals. Some of them regarded him with looks of disdain, simply itching to get back to what they'd been doing prior to the sudden interruption. Others were indifferent, awaiting his words. Perhaps he was the current leader of the group or something.  
  
Maybe.  
  
He gestures towards Gonta, who is suddenly aware of the fact that he didn't introduce himself. "Gokuhara-kun, right? You have yet to properly introduce yourself!"  
  
Kokichi sneers. "Gonta's just—"  
  
Kirumi shoo's Kokichi away again, chiding him and muttering something about how 'Gonta can speak for himself'. Her help is greatly appreciated, especially when the male in question is _still_ trying to find his voice; it was definitely there, it was just.. being difficult. Yeah, that sounded about right.  
  
Definitely didn't lose his voice or anything. No, that was just impossible. After all, he'd been speaking mere moments ago!  
  
"Gonta is.. Gonta Gokuhara, Ultimate Entomologist." Okay, his voice is working, but it's really difficult to keep himself from getting parched after a few words. Might want to look into that later, but not now.  
  
There were other things to worry about, like their current surroundings and the strangely giant television screen looming over the tables. Maybe a face will pop up on it, maybe not. Maybe that's a normal thing for school dining halls to have. Gonta wouldn't know.  
  
( _Somewhere, in the deep depths of Gonta's mind, he finds himself praying that this situation isn't what he thinks it is._ )  
  
"I'm happy to see everyone in good spirits!" A familiar Atua-praising girl chimes, having skipped right over and made herself at home in the spot Kokichi once inhabited. Said male whines about his spot being taken, only to be shut up by the Ultimate Breeder; Gundham Tanaka, a unique fellow; berating him from afar.  
  
"But Atua tells me that you prayed recently, maybe even at this _very_ moment! He says he'd be happy to fulfill your wishes in return for your _complete_ and _utter_ devotion!"  
  
Several people looked over in their direction and Gonta wanted to slink away from the conversation right then and there. However, he was obligated to remain, even if his throat had decided to no cooperate anymore. So, instead, he shakes his head slowly.  
  
Angie remains, staring up at him with those scarily _innocent_ eyes of hers.  
  
Rantaro, who seemed to have dropped the idea of not knowing his talent ( _although that was primarily due to his secret little video being found by the last few students from their killing game_ ), raises a brow at Angie's strange behavior. Gonta says nothing and, eventually, Angie takes it as a declination. "Nyahaha! Oh, but the offer's always on the table! Reconsider anytime you please, Gonta!"

He doubts that it'll ever come around to that, but nods nonetheless. Angie seems pleased with the non-verbal response and, within seconds, is back with Tenko; the latter looks over her thoroughly, almost as if she'd ran into a hurricane and ran right back. Glad to know those two had yet to change.

( _He still feels uneasy._ )

"Can't help but wonder what all of us are doing here." Kirumi mentions softly, and Gonta finds himself agreeing with her. "Everyone here has.. died, it would seem. There's no logical way to explain all of this—"

Gonta's worst fears are answered in the form of static on a television screen. It goes silent, everyone's eyes flicking up towards the billboard-like item hanging above their heads. Part of Gonta thinks it might fall, come crashing down like that failed shot-put trap Kaede had created.

It just might. _It just might._

"One, two, one two—check, check, check!"

( _That voice.._ )

"Alrighty then! Let's get this show on the road, shall we? Upupupu!"

( _You've got to be kidding me._ )

The static clears at that very moment, exposing the dreaded face of a split bear. Several people scream and Gonta's pretty sure someone faints nearby; a chaotic mixture of terror, anger and panic washes over everyone, and Gonta is the only one who remains still. Kirumi's left his side to aid the person who dropped 'dead', whereas Kokichi seemed to have evaporated from his side completely.

Good. Great. Absolutely _perfect._

"What type of cruel purgatory is this?!" Gundham squawks, and the crows perched on his shoulders screech out to voice their own complaints. He could've sworn the male had mentioned something about 'Four Dark Devas Of Destruction', and how those crows happened to be the next generation of his 'demonic beasts'.

No, now's not the time to think about dead hamsters and furious crows. There's a time and place for that, and it isn't now. Not when Monokuma's _stupid little face_ is on that giant screen.

The bear in question is all too thrilled to explain the situation. "Oh, silly, this isn't purgatory! This is yet another game of Danganronpa, and you're all the stars of the new horizon!"

"I don't remember being _alive_ ," Mondo mutters, and Kiyotaka flinches. "Or anyone else here being alive, so you better explain better than that, you sack of shit!"

( _The two probably know one another. There's no other reason why Kiyotaka would react like that.)_

"Cuz you _aren't_! All of you died miserably; or maybe I just dragged you right back into that consciousness when you were so close to waking up?" The likes of Gundham, Mikan and Ibuki seem to be the most affected by it. If Pekoyama's affected, then she doesn't show it. Mahiru remains indifferent.

"How dreadful that would be, don't you think?! But I suppose I should explain in a bit more.. detail. As much detail as a bear can manage, anywho!"

Monokuma branches out its arms, grin seemingly growing larger. It's unnerving to look at, but Gonta can't peel his eyes away from the screen.

"I, your _lovely_ headmaster, decided to take some.. things.. into account! And, by doing so, I decided that we could create yet another appealing tryst for _half the price!_ Who knew bringing in dead corpses and reanimating them would cost way less energy than dragging in a bunch of losers from random parts of town? Definitely not this bear, but it all worked out in the end!"

Sakura frowns. Nekomaru, who'd been awfully quiet for the entirety of the speech, seems to burst with energy right then and there; and not the good kind, because he looks absolutely _livid_. "So you're just gonna throw us right back into this?! Who's the funny guy coordinating all this, huh?!"

Monokuma remains silent, but Gonta swears that it's giggling at them again.

"Moving on," it says instead, and Nekomaru is dangerously close to popping a vein. "Check your pockets, everyone; go through the procedure once more and if I must explain again—"

"Oh, put a sock in it, you half-cum-half-soot piece of shit!" Miu yells, and Kiyotaka looks absolutely _scandalized._ "We know about your shitty rules already! Just quit yapping and let us run around, cuz' none of us are stupid enough to kill one another!"

Monokuma looks exasperated somehow. " _You all said that last time._ "

Kaede and Rantaro furrow their brows; that was _definitely_ directed towards them, more than the others anyways.

Reluctantly, Gonta reaches into his pocket and withdraws the e-Handbook from his pocket—he hates looking at it, he absolutely _despises_ it's existence.

( _Man, existing in that void really messed up his gentlemanly structure. And to think, that's what he wanted to be, for himself, for nobody else.._ )

( _Gonta could afford to lose that here. Maybe._ )

"The rules are what they are, and you should know them by heart!" There's a prolonged silence, and Monokuma harrumphs, beginning to pout. At least, it _sounds_ like it's pouting. "Oh, you guys are no fun! Absolute bummers, if you ask me!"

"Don't lobe me in with the boring ones!" Kokichi cries, but it's obviously fake. Doesn't stop Angie from prancing over and attempting to comfort him with Atua's words.

"Your first motive will be administered soon! Have fun, my little cubs! Upupup...!"

And then the screen cuts to black, and Gonta has never felt more relieved to stare at his bare feet.

( _This has to be a nightmare, some sort of.. purgatory, like Gundham said earlier. Yeah, that sounds right! There's no way Monokuma brought them back from the dead to do this!_ )

It's silent for a moment longer, and he _thinks_ it may be signalling the end of a dream, but then Nekomaru is fuming again and people are clamoring and congregating with whoever they can actually remember being friends with. Kirumi pulls him aside and Kokichi trails after them, yapping on about something Gonta can't bring himself to listen to.

This isn't a nightmare, is it?

( _It's all painfully real._ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Prologue: The Upbringing Of Despair - END**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 25**


	2. Compulsive Liar Syndrome (Daily Life I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gonta tries his best.

"You're surprisingly calm about all of this," are the words that leave Kirumi's mouth as she pulls Gonta aside. Kokichi is still rambling on about something; it's unimportant and, most likely, mindless, so Gonta doesn't listen. He doesn't _want_ to listen.

Kirumi is far better company than Kokichi, he decides. He wishes he got to linger around her more often.

Gonta wishes Ryoma didn't just give up his life like that. The wish disappears as quickly as it came, because Ryoma isn't here.

No, he's not here. And that bothers Gonta.  
  
The maid looks over at the jumbled lot of bodies, some of them sparking arguments with one another; most likely because of former relationships or the like, since nothing ( _other than Monokuma's appearance and the declaration of yet another killing game_ ) really incited such behavior. She frowns, also ignoring Kokichi's ranting. He doesn't seem to care that nobody's listening to him.

That's what Gonta thinks, anyways. It'll only take a second for him to get angry, concerning the fact that neither Kirumi or him are actually _trying_ to listen to what he has to say.  
  
( _Has Kokichi ever cared about anything along those lines? After all, he only lies to keep things 'fun' and 'entertaining'._)  
  
( _The more Gonta recalled about Kokichi's personality, the more Gonta regrets confiding in him. Maybe he just should stop thinking about him, cleanse his mind of doubt because a gentleman doesn't do that. Maybe._ )  
  
Gonta eyes the compulsive liar in question warily. He doesn't realize it until the ranting comes to a slow, gradual halt. "Eh? Is there something on my face, Gonta?" Kokichi tilts his head like a dog, eyes wide and analyzing. A small smile rests on his face, only furthering the pool of disdain coiled up within Gonta's chest. It shouldn't be there. It has no right to be there.  
  
Significantly worst than Angie's gaze, because Gonta can't trust those purple eyes.  
  
( _Please, stop. Judging him like this.. will do nothing. It has never done anything and it never will._ )  
  
Gonta doesn't answer, leaving Kokichi to perk right back up and grin at him. The very same grin he had on his face when their _plan_ was discussed, and the very same grin that appeared on his face when he convicted Gonta as the culprit. "What, you're getting all tongue-tied on me now? That's pretty ungentlemanly, to just leave me guessing."  
  
( _Don't judge him, don't judge him, don't judge him._)  
  
Kirumi notices the tension gathering in Gonta's gaze, and places a hand on his shoulder once more. Her touch is light, comfortable; he appreciates it, but suppresses another bout of disdain when _Kokichi_ places a hand on him and latches onto his arm giddily. Any other time he would've been fine like this, but now?  
  
... Gonta wants to throw him. Just one time, just to see how far he'd go across the room. Maybe he'd get a concussion or something. Maybe he'd stop talking.

_Maybe he'll stop being so touchy._

Gonta blinks slowly at the thoughts, discarding them _almost_ immediately; as he'd done with many other intrusive things that'd came to mind recently.  
  
(... _Where did that come from? Does Gonta really want to know that? Probably not._ )  
  
Kirumi's voice slices through the morbid thought; and, once again, Gonta finds himself appreciating her continued assistance.  
  
"You're not as indifferent as I thought you were. Regardless, we must focus on the task at hand; getting out of this situation with haste and making sure that everyone is okay." She looks past Kokichi, who's on the verge of beginning another meaningless ramble ( _or maybe he's ready to start the tantrum-phase_ ), and narrows in on the angrier students.  
  
Mondo is one of many. He looks ready to break down the television screen, although the e-Handbook strongly advised against doing something like that. Kiyotaka, who is apparently a stickler for rules, fans out his arms and does his best to restrain the biker. It is primarily futile.  
  
Mondo might get himself killed. He _will_ get himself killed.  
  
Gonta doesn't know _him_ , but he _knows_ that he doesn't want anyone to die. Not again. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stomach the sight of another dead body. Not after Kaede, not after Kirumi..  
  
But they were here; Kirumi was at his side and Kaede was keeping Angie and Tenko out of the fray. At this very moment in time, they were all _alive._  
  
If he plays his cards right, maybe they'll survive through this.  
  
( _.. People will still die regardless. The question is: how many people?_)  
  
Kokichi rolls his eyes, excitement oozing off of him as if it had never entered his body in the first place. That was probably part of his little act. "Hey, what about me? I'm more important than a buncha losers you don't even know!"  
  
Kirumi regards Kokichi with a scalding gaze. It does not deter him in the slightest, as shown by the light tugging on Gonta's sleeve and all the childish bouncing he's doing. "C'mon, back me up, big guy! I'm super important, _way_ more important, right?"  
  
( _The tugging feels vaguely familiar._ _Gonta feels another bout of sickness coming on.._ )

"Gonta thinks.." Steeling his nerves, he removes his arm from the liar's grasp. His actions are met with another whine, but Gonta tries to ignore it. "That we should help others."

Kirumi, for the first time during this surreal experience, smiles. It's a soft, easygoing look on her. Kokichi, on the other hand, frowns for the umpteenth time. He crosses his arms over his chest, obviously annoyed with Gonta's choice. Surprisingly enough, he doesn't say anything in retort.

"I will provide assistance to the likes of Sayaka and Leon," Kirumi informs. "Afterwards, I shall check up on whomever is in need of my services. You can confront anyone you feel comfortable with consoling, Gokuhara-kun."

A reasonable plan, but nothing less should be expected from the Ultimate Maid.

When he nods, Kokichi perks right back up again, almost as if he'd never been irritated in the first place. At this point, it was getting harder and harder to tell; Kokichi wasn't necessarily an open book, even if he happened to leech off of Gonta quite frequently.

( _Back when they weren't in this situation. There would be no leeching this time. Hopefully._)

( _Gonta just wants to believe in Kokichi. Just once._ )

"Oh!" And then he's ( _forcefully_ ) linking arms with Gonta and beaming up at him. Gonta hopes it's not a false expression, but it probably is. He knows he's far too hopeful for someone who's background revolves around lying and messing with people's emotions, but he really can't help it. "Lemme help!"

The entomologist looks to Kirumi for support, but she's already off; to no surprise, she's already stopped the conflict that was stirring up between Leon and Sayaka ( _although the latter seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack, poor thing_ ). She spares Gonta a look, one of pity due to the male hanging off of him, then speeds over towards Mondo and Kiyotaka.

Okay, this is fine.

( _... Did Gonta just lie to himself?_ )

".. Gonta isn't.. comfortable with that." He, for the second time, peels away from Kokichi. The latter either doesn't care or just isn't getting the hint, because he looks like he's gonna start bawling. Fake or not, Gonta doesn't know how to deal with Kokichi _crying_.

Too much guilt that he can't deal with. Not when he's still having trouble collecting his thoughts, not when he thought about _punting_ Kokichi across the room.

The action would be carried out if he wasn't careful enough. His emotions were in a disarray, and he flinches when Kokichi sniffles.

Not today.

"Uh..! Gonta.. has to go—!"

So, reasonably, he tucks his tail between his legs and leaves Kokichi to his own devices. Fortunately, the male doesn't follow. Presumably, because Gonta doesn't look back and chooses to steer himself over towards the nearest person.

Sure, it wasn't a move a gentleman would pull, but he vaguely remembered Shuichi telling him about how nobody should be forcing themselves out of their comfort zone. Kokichi was definitely on the borderlines of that zone; sometimes he was comfortable to be around. Sometimes Gonta really didn't know how to feel about him. There was always a 50/50 chance that Kokichi would do something that made Gonta uncomfortable.

The person he ( _absentmindedly_ ) chose to assist happened to be an unfamiliar face; the Ultimate Lucky Student, Nagito Komaeda.

That is, if he's remembering his name correctly. There are just.. so many people. Way more people than he's used to.

Nagito.. didn't necessarily seem distressed. Not like the others, anyways, but Gonta could never be too sure. After all, it wasn't like he _knew_ this guy. His expression was lax, scanning over the other Ultimates with a peaked sense of interest; amazingly enough, he didn't seem to notice Gonta's hulking form until the last second, yelping softly and looking up at him.

Then he pulls a sheepish expression. Gonta reckons that he's embarrassed or something along those lines. "Hello, Gokuhara-kun! What brings you over here?"

"Gonta checking up on others," he answers cheerfully. "Is Komaeda-kun okay?"

In truth, he's just doing everything he can to keep his mind off of the imminent presence that was Kokichi Ouma. For all he knew, the male could be behind him, just.. standing there, with the cheekiest look on his face.

He discards yet another thought.

Nagito seems surprised, for his eyes widen almost comically and he glances around at the others; Kirumi did a good job of keeping people in line, although she was always going right back to Mondo and Kiyotaka.

Mondo was, without a doubt, miffed right about now. Gonta couldn't blame him in the slightest. This situation could easily bring out the worst in people.

( _Gonta shouldn't think about that. He really, really shouldn't think about that._ )

"I guess I'm the only 'Komaeda' here," the Ultimate Lucky Student mutters. He then smiles serenely, as if his life _isn't_ on the line (for the second(?) time). "No need to worry about scum like me, Gokuhara-kun! Even if I was perturbed, an Ultimate like yourself shouldn't be concerned about it."

Gonta blinks. "But.. being concerned is gentlemanly trait! Gonta has to be concerned for Komaeda-kun!"

Nagito regards him with a perplexed look, but it's soon wiped away by one of surprise when Angie dashes by him. Kirumi is close behind her, regarding the two with a hasty apology before continuing to give chase.

Both males watch after the females, who are, apparently, playing a game of cat and mouse. Neither of them utter a word when they look back at one another. The conversation that was just beginning to brew has ended, so there's nothing else to say.

... Gonta expects nothing less from the likes of Angie. Only she could cut a conversation short before it got too deep.

( _Komaeda's very mean to himself.. Maybe Gonta shouldn't interfere with that right now.._ )

Nagito clears his throat after the silence grows to be awkward. "You're really kind for that, Gokuhara-kun—I, uh, thank you for your hospitality." His words do nothing to save the conversation, so Gonta puts a smile on his face and takes the compliment in stride.

( _Gonta thinks he and Komaeda grew a little closer.._ )

* * *

 **｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**NAGITO KOMAEDA's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

Knowing that getting Nagito to openly talk about how he's feeling would be a little more than a hassle, Gonta bids him farewell and moves onto the next person. Well, if he can _find_ the next person; Kirumi's dealt with most of the issues by now, although the ones remaining are minor ( _if you're not counting Angie running about, laughing like a madwoman_ ). Kokichi, much like last time, is nowhere to be found.

That lack of knowledge makes him feel uneasy.

( _Much like Komaeda, Gonta chooses to neglect his feelings on that matter for the time being._ )

"It's nice to be in your company again, Gokuhara-kun." Gonta flinches out of his thoughts, choosing to finally focus on his surroundings. Apparently, he hadn't stopped moving whilst getting lost in his thoughts; the result was him standing in front of ( _in contrast to Komaeda_ ) a familiar face. "I was almost under the assumption that you'd walk right by; although, in hindsight, I wouldn't mind that at all."

Gonta only feels mild embarrassment towards whatever that may entail. Lingering around Iruma truly did wonders to the human brain, it would seem—oh, but he shouldn't be thinking about her. That would only worsen the guilt, most likely, although he would definitely feel more comfortable around her than he does around Kokichi.

_He really needs to just ban that name from his head all together._

"Gonta doesn't know what that means," he replies softly. Regardless, his mood does not falter, and he's grinning at the Ultimate before him all over again. "But Gonta's happy to see Shinguji-kun!"

Korekiyo merely hums in acknowledgement. One of their hands cradles a pocket-watch—one that Gonta doesn't remember them having ( _they didn't have a pocket-watch back then. Back then, it was just some silver locket.._ ) _._ Then again, it would seem like quite a few people are adorning clothing different from last time.

He glances down at himself and realizes that he's wearing the same suit, although one hand is cloaked with a black glove. He flexes his fingers and, unsurprisingly, there is no pain. It's a slight contrast from his brown-themed clothing.

... Huh. How did he not notice that before?

Korekiyo doesn't seem to mind the other's prolonged silence, only observing his form as he looks over himself. If anything, that's better for them; after all, their entire Ultimate revolved around human activity. Observing the likes of Gonta was always a treat.

( _Not that Gonta knew about such a thing, lest he volunteered._ )

"Neglecting the fact that we have all recently awakened in this new space," they speak up, eyes still watching Gonta fiddle with his attire. "I would like to ask how you've been as of late. That tiny.. _nuisance_ has been hanging off of you. I reckon that must be troublesome, yes?"

Gonta hates how he translates 'nuisance' to 'Kokichi Ouma'. Nonetheless, he makes a small noise of agreement and begins to rub his arms. It was surprisingly cold in this establishment, although he believes that's because of how there are no fans around. Either that, or Monokuma—that name almost made him _grimace_ —was toying with them again.

The latter was just as likely as the former. God knows what the motive would be this time around.

"Gonta guilty for not trusting Kokichi," he admits solemnly. When Korekiyo quirks a brow at him, although it was hard to tell due to both their hair and hat, Gonta chooses to continue, "Kokichi means well! At least, Gonta thinks so.."

Korekiyo does not falter. They take a step forward, eyes scanning Gonta's expression closely—as they typically did whenever they got the chance to examine someone. "Isn't he the reason you perished, Gokuhara-kun? Shouldn't you be exhibiting a far more.. _agitated_ set of emotions around him?"

The male in question opens his mouth, but closes it as soon as he realizes what Korekiyo said. The latter stares at him expectantly, eyes lidded and expression unreadable.

Gonta stares blankly at the anthropologist. He doesn't want to reply.

Korekiyo continues to push forward. "While I _do_ wish to see such a mellow human as yourself lose your temper, don't _you_ think that Kokichi is undeserving of that forgiveness? I don't recall him feeling guilty for getting you killed. You shouldn't show hospitality towards such malicious behavior."

Gonta straightens up, all of the questions he had about Korekiyo's current health evaporating. He didn't need to hear this; he _knew_ this, but he was too guilty for this. He didn't know how Kokichi died, and, quite frankly, was very sure he _didn't want to find out anytime soon._ But he did know that Kokichi said he didn't care.

Kokichi.. said he didn't care. He _doesn't_ care.

( _Why is that so difficult to believe?_ )

( _.. Gonta should stop thinking about this._ )

".. Gonta has to go." He takes a step away from Korekiyo, who doesn't seem to be disheartened in the slightest. If anything, they seem quite pleased with the seed of emotional turmoil that they've placed within Gonta's brain. A slowly blossoming seed that, soon, will be water and nourished into a carnivorous plant.

But Gonta didn't need to know that. After all, Korekiyo was an observer.

They would only observe. That's all they would ever do when it came to Kokichi and Gonta's complex relationship. Just _thinking_ about it made them hum softly, eager to see what new behaviors they'd come across.

"Farewell, Gokuhara-kun." Korekiyo's reply is slow, steady, not unlike the words that'd poured from their mouth mere moments ago. "I hope we'll get to talk again soon."

Gonta doesn't stick around. His thoughts are already intrusive, and now Korekiyo's words are infiltrating them. Just a recipe for disaster. He chokes out another rushed goodbye before doing his best to separate from the prodding entity that was Korekiyo Shinguji.

( _.. Did Gonta and Korekiyo grow closer?_ )

* * *

 **｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED..?** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**KOREKIYO SHINGUJI's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

Gonta decides to see what the deal is with the Ultimate Breeder; who, seemingly, was keeping himself in check at the moment. Maybe Kirumi had already conversed with him or something, but he rules that out almost immediately when he hears the crows' screeching start up again. They were obviously distressed.

After a moment of hesitance, he approached.

( _Gonta doesn't know Gundham, so Gundham won't bring up Kokichi_.)

Gundham practically bristles when he notices Gonta's presence, immediately taking a step back and leaning up against the wall; right, he'd secluded himself from the others and not one person had decided to come over here.. which would mean that Kirumi, in fact, did not check on Gundham.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the maid apprehend Angie, requesting a red-eyed woman with silver hair to watch over her soon afterwards.

"What business do you have here, mortal?" Gundham pipes up abruptly. His voice is loud, although it's no match for the combined forces of Kiyotaka's scolding ( _maybe he's still confronting Mondo.._ ) and Angie's bubbly laughter. When Gonta doesn't reply, the breeder's expression morphs into one of mild annoyance. "Is your tongue being held at stake? Speak now, or I will banish you from whence you came!"

.. Gonta has no idea what this guys' deal is, but his words are funny.

"Oh! Uh, Gonta was checking up on others. Making sure they were okay." When Gundham's tense posture fails to falter; much like Korekiyo's unrelenting gaze and Kokichi's strange persistence; Gonta does the next best thing. He gestures towards the crows, who are now watching his movements closely.

Much to his chagrin, none of them start squawking at his hand. Saves him a headache, concerning how loud they've been from a distance. God knows how they'd be up close. "Gundham's crows—"

"Four Dark Devas of Destruction." Gundham interjects. Gonta feels the cogs in his brain turn before he can properly access the male's words.

Tentatively, he starts over, "Gundham's Four Dark Devas of Destruction.. were loud and distressed. Gonta thinks he can help."

The breeder looks him up and down, although his gaze drops right back towards the bug box. Seemingly elated, or maybe that's just a misconception on Gonta's part, the male points towards the item; a total 180 from his previous mood.

"You were able to detect my fearsome beasts' peril because you have one of your own, yes?!"

( _.. What would happen if Gonta says no_ — _)_

While Gonta is still somewhat concerned, he puts on a smile and nods. He thinks he knows what Gundham means by 'beasts'; bugs, probably, because there's no other reason why he'd point at a _bug box_ if he didn't know it would contain a bug. "Yes! Gonta take care of bugs!"

Something flickers in Gundham's eyes, and he's quick to retain his previous posture. The posture that was standing tall ( _again, the word was being used generously_ ) and maintaining proper eye-contact with the taller, less-layered individual before him. "I hadn't a clue that I'd meet another beast tamer here, especially under these circumstances.. You must inform me of your familiars; taming the beasts that survive even with their inferior sizes.. that is truly an achievement!"

Gonta blinks before deciding that this wasn't uncomfortable in the _slightest_. After all, Gundham was interested in his bugs and was insinuating that he wanted to _see_ them!

That was the _opposite_ of uncomfortable, a complete contrast of how Kokichi and Korekiyo made him feel earlier.

While he was sure Korekiyo wouldn't make him too uncomfortable—it was just in their nature to be like that, they couldn't help it ( _although he was hoping that the incestous ties they had with their sister had faded after being betrayed during his execution_) _—_ Kokichi was just unpleasant as a whole.

Gundham was just.. out there. His words were outlandish, sure, but he seems like a good person overall. His crows—Four Dark Devas of Destruction—looked well-cared for and were obviously trained, which automatically meant good things.

"Inform.. Gundham.." Gonta thought for a moment before perking up, grinning. The expression must've caught the other off guard, because he stiffened up and squared his shoulders. He looked defensive. "Oh! Tell Gundham about bugs? Gonta can do that!"

Gundham shushed him, soon doing the same towards his excited crows. "For a tamer of small, intelligent entities, you are far more grandiose than one would expect.. we shall discuss familiars in a more dignified locale, where mortals cannot listen to our conversation. I, the Supreme Overlord of Ice, Gundham Tanaka, will await your arrival!"

Such an outlandish title, but Gonta didn't question it. Instead, he nodded, happy to share his vast information on bugs—and, if they actually had labs, maybe he'd get to actually show the Ultimate Breeder some of his favorite species. "Right, Gonta understand!"

( _Gonta feels like he and Gundham got closer.._ )

* * *

 **｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**TANAKA GUNDHAM's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

And so, after briefly discussing the time of which the 'meeting of the beast tamers' would begin, Gonta exchanges farewells with Gundham and decides to look around. It didn't look like anyone else was in need of consoling; Angie was in custody of the Ultimate Swordswoman ( _Gonta thinks that's her talent; he could be completely wrong_ ), Kokichi was.. somewhere.. and Kirumi had just finished communicating with yet another student.

He opens his mouth to greet her, maybe discuss what's happened already, when the screen flicks to life once more. People are less chaotic about it this time, either because they now understand the situation or were _properly_ consoled.

( _Gonta thinks he did a bad job on that part. Kirumi didn't need to know—she probably already knew, nonetheless._ )

It takes a moment—a brief murmur courses through the crowd—and then Monokuma's face is right back on the screen. It's wielding a wine glass, the liquid inches away from teetering out of the glass.

Kirumi looks somewhat aggravated at the sight. She remains proper, regardless, although the occasional twitch of her brow indicates a hidden annoyance, a hidden _fury_. She doesn't want to be here. She doesn't want to look at the bear.

Gonta doesn't blame her. Not in the slightest, because he feels the same way.

The bear yawns, fanning its face with a digit-less paw. "Looks like none of you moved—splendid! Means less work for me to round all of my precious little cubs right back to the congregation spot, upupupu!"

"I'd rather be referred to as mince-meat," Leon mutters, and Sayaka nods quietly from where she's positioned at his side. At least they're not fighting anymore. "The fuck do you want, bear?"

Monokuma has the audacity to feign sorrow, placing a paw on its chest and letting out a small, pained noise. Almost as if it wasn't a robot and actually had a heart or something—which wasn't ideal, if Gonta really thought about it. This was bad enough.

"Oh, you wound me! Alas, I am only here as a _temporary visitor_. I have news—news that you'll _all_ want to hear!"

Gundham narrows his eyes at that. Gonta can't fathom why.

"Well?" Nagito tilts his head a bit. "We're waiting, Monokuma."

Monokuma tips the glass back, although none of the substance goes into its mouth—instead, it cascades down its body and the faint sound of liquids pummeling the ground echoes through the dining hall.

Kiyotaka looks disgusted. Kirumi's fingers twitch at her sides and her brow twitching becomes more than just occasional, but she remains proper.

"The motive.. will be administered now!" Monokuma pauses, as if waiting for applause, but there is only silence. It huffs, dropping the glass onto the floor and slouching back on its throne. The sound of glass shattering is the next thing to echo through the locale.

Gonta is _very_ sure that Kirumi wants to kill Monokuma for more than just putting them in this situation. Very, _very_ sure.

"Ahem.. the **First Blood Perk**!" And then the bear hops up in its seat, arms spread out wide. "Whoever kills someone within a designated time limit—and lacks any witnesses— will get out, **free of charge**!"

(...)

(...)

_What?_

Kokichi decides to exist once more, appearing beside Gonta with his hands on his hips. He looks like a sassy little child, but Gonta can't find anything endearing about the male beside him. Not like he used to, not under these circumstances. He raises a hand, jutting a finger out at the screen.

"There has to be a catch to that," he accuses. "Don't lie to me—I _hate_ liars!"

( _Isn't that hypocritical..? And he's not the only one here.. does he realize that?_ )

Monokuma giggles, placing its paws over its muzzle. It is incredibly unsettling to look at, to _listen_ to. "Oh, I'm not kidding! And the timer has already begun—if someone murders someone within the next hour.. they'll go home free! No scams, no tricks, no schemes, no doubt about it! However.."

"Knew there was a catch," Kokichi preens. He is silenced by Kirumi placing a hand on his head, pushing downwards and making him squawk out in anguish. Miu sneers at the liar's misfortune.

If Monokuma could, it would've rolled its eyes. Gonta is very sure of this statement, especially if he's just going off of body language; after all, if you're gonna try to normalize yourself with society after living in the wild for so long, learning how to ready someone's body language is essential.

That, and Monokuma looked like a bear. That just made a lot of things easier for Gonta to understand, even if it wasn't a _real_ bear. A robotic bear was still on the list of bears for him.

"If you're caught.." Monokuma sliced its paw along where its neck would be. "You're donezo! Out of bounds, completely and totally fucked!"

There's a prolonged silence that washes over everyone. Even the likes of Kokichi and Nagito—Gonta knows Kokichi is talkative, but Nagito could go on full rants about one specific thing if need be ( _according to Mahiru, who wanted absolutely nothing to do with the male. Gonta wonders why. He seems nice enough_ ).

Then the screen fizzles and Monokuma giggles once more. "Stunned into silence? I thought you'd be! Now, run along, my dear cubs!"

Nobody moves.

Then, suddenly, Mondo shakes his head and grumbles something low in his chest. "Like hell I'm gonna listen to that furry bastard! The damn thing can eat a brick for all I care—" Gonta can't tell what else he's saying, primarily because he's already stomped off and left the vicinity. He stares after him, even as Kiyotaka and Chihiro follow his lead with the upmost haste.

( _Ah. A trio of friends, it would seem._ )

( _.. That's nice._ )

Gundham clicks his tongue, crows cawing lowly—not loudly, _lowly._ It sounds ominous and, quite frankly, Gonta is glad that he actually checked out the male's personality. "I shall disperse as well. I refuse to play into the hands of a lowly creature such as Monokuma." And, without haste, he exits the locale as well.

One by one, everyone disperses, soon leaving Gonta and Kirumi by themselves. Kokichi, for the umpteenth time, has disappeared. For the better or the worst; Gonta cannot tell, but he's glad that the male's overbearing presence is no longer with him.

Kirumi nods towards him, bowing soon afterwards. "Thank you for assisting the other students—and do not tell me you did a lousy job. They are significantly calmer than they were beforehand." She looks toward the double doors, hands intertwining with one another.

The anger that resides in her eyes scares Gonta, but he trusts Kirumi. He trusts her with every fiber in her being, because she was a trustworthy person.

 _Is_ , not was, Gonta corrects himself.

".. Thank you, Tojo-san."

Kirumi smiles again, but that anger does not leave. She is just as upset as Mondo is, but she retains her daintiness through and through. A perfect example of a gentle..woman? A gentlewoman.

"Now," she pats his back, almost as if he's a child. Then again, he supposes that she's older than him, which makes the thought of being compared to a child slightly more pleasant. "Go along now, Gokuhara-kun. I'm sure you have some exploring to do—do not fret over the motive. I will make sure that nobody tries anything."

( _Is this why everyone called Tojo-san 'mom'?_ )

Gonta nods in response, managing a slightly worried smile before exiting the locale. He keeps in mind that the doors do not open behind him, for Kirumi does not follow.

He supposes that she's chosen to busy herself with other tasks as of late, such as cleaning. She did seem like she was itching to remove Monokuma's head from its body right then and there, all because it kept dropping items onto the ground without a care in the world.

.. Then again, she _did_ do all of the cleaning before. It must be second-nature or something along those lines.

Vanquishing the thoughts from his head—because Kirumi told him not to worry, because she had everything under control—Gonta decides that he'll do what she advised him to do: explore, look around, get a grasp on his surroundings.

( _Here we go again.._ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter One: Compulsive Liar Syndrome - BEGIN**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 25**

**Nagito Komaeda's Report Card Update:**

_Although Nagito seems like a pretty normal guy, he has some serious issues revolving around his self worth. He doesn't seem to believe that anyone should be concerned about how he's feeling. Maybe he just needs a friend..?_

**Korekiyo Shinguji's Report Card Update:**

_Absolutely nothing has changed with Korekiyo, although they seem to be a lot more interested in stirring up conflicts, if only to see the different behaviors one can exhibit. It's best to be a bit wary of their words; even if they have no intention of hurting anyone, they're still attempting to provoke Gonta into acting differently. Someone should really question them on that.._

**Tanaka Gundham's Report Card Update:**

_For a dude with a mysterious aura about him and four crows following him around, he's not that bad. Sure, his words are kind of funny, but what else would one expect from a magic man? Or a breeder man, but Gundham seems to know a lot more than just animals. He invited Gonta to a 'beast tamer meeting', and wants to see the bugs. Just gotta hope for the best in this situation._


	3. Compulsive Liar Syndrome (Daily Life II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gonta explores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NDWJIDNADADANDJK GUYS????? ALL Y'ALL ARE SO NICE TO ME IM—
> 
> and for the lovely mangleschmidt,,, who asked about gonta's glove,,, :eyes:

Upon entering the hallway, Gonta has a realization.

He has _no_ idea where he is, nor does he have any idea where he's going. Maybe he should've stayed by Kirumi's side, but then he thinks about how that would inconvenience her. The male has a couple of ideas on where he could go, but none of them are places he'd been to already—Gonta doesn't even know where his room is, much less where any of the doors may lead to.

With more than just a speck of hesitance weighing down on his shoulders, Gonta pushes forward. The halls are wide, capable of letting at least three people walk side-by-side; probably something Monokuma took into account, regarding the fact that accomplices existed.

( _There wasn't a rule about accomplices last time.. but now there was—anyone who is found to be an accomplice is to be punished, but not executed._ )

( _.. Was Kokichi an accomplice back then? If this rule had existed the first time around, maybe.._ )

Gonta wants to punch himself, but refrains. Instead, he bites onto his left hand—his gloved hand—and regrets it immediately. His mouth is filled with the unfamiliar taste of dust, and he begins to cough after inhaling it. Because of the silence encasing the halls, the sound of his lungs stressing against the intrusion echoes.

Once the coughing dies down, he cringes. God, that wasn't pleasant—did absolutely nothing to help his case, although his previous thought about Kokichi was eradicated. For the moment, that is, because it looked like he wasn't gonna stop thinking about the male for a long while. How unfortunate.

The best he could do is ignore it completely—

"I was never told that Kaito was _contagious_! Who knew that nature boy would catch a disease first?" And then there's that dreaded voice, accompanied by a body popping out of one of the classrooms. That very same grin—the one that stretches a bit too far along his cheeks and looks a bit painful—is on his face.

( _Gonta jinxed it._ )

Gonta was happy he didn't have his glasses. Things were only slightly more blurry, sure, but it kept Kokichi's face from being in high definition. That was the best he could do at this rate, especially since Kokichi seemed to be _actively seeking him out._

What a shame.

"That was a lie—I know Katio's not contagious," Kokichi croons. He then leans on the doorway, still grinning up at the behemoth of a male. "You look less lame without the glasses. A shame that you're looking for them. You _are_ looking for them, right?"

Gonta blinks at him slowly, not even bothering to smile at the male; forced smile or not, he really couldn't bring himself to care about anything the former had to say. None of it was worth his time anymore.

( _Maybe if he hoped enough, something of Kokichi's would be worth his time._ )

Remaining silent, if only for the sake of his health, Gonta brushes by Kokichi. The latter makes a noise of protest, but it's immediately overshadowed by Gonta marching over towards a desk and snatching up a pair of glasses—wait, they're shattered. Great. He heaves out a sigh, dropping the broken item with a small grunt.

( _Gonta's eyes are starting to hurt.._ )

He'd been so fixated on making a beeline towards his possession that he didn't notice the other entity in the room; definitely not someone he knew, because her Lolita dress was something he'd never laid eyes on before. It looked plenty expensive, as did the large curls that framed her face.

She watches him with a vague interest, hand placed over her lips.

Well, at least Kokichi was hanging around someone _other_ than Kirumi and him.

"I don't believe we've formally introduced ourselves," the Ultimate Gambler—Celestia Ludenberg, or just.. Celeste, right?—sits on one of the desks, a stack of cards held in one of her hands. Almost as if she'd been waiting for someone to come in, if only to play a game of cards with the poor soul. "I am the Ultimate Gambler—please, refer to me as Celeste. My name is quite the mouthful, I'm sure."

Perhaps that's the reason why she was giving Kokichi the light of day; a chance to gamble, to let her talent _shine_. Nobody would do that if they were given the choice.

Celeste waves the cards around slowly, although her precise grip keeps them from slipping from between her fingers. Must've been doing that for a while, especially since her expression remained collected all the while. Gonta knows he'd look a little more than stressed if he were in her place. She must be like Kirumi, if only better at masking her emotions.

Kirumi was readable, but Gonta supposed he had an advantage. After all, he knew Kirumi Tojo. He, on the other hand, _didn't_ know Celeste.

( _Gonta wasn't sure if she'd let him know her, honestly.. she looks pretty intimidating._)

Kokichi attempts to touch Gonta, only to yelp when Celeste throws _something_ at him. Whatever it happened to be, it was shattered along the floor now, scattered and broken beyond recognition. She continues to smile, even as the smallest of the trio attempts to weasel his way out of the mess.

It was probably a vase. Something made out of glass, most likely.

"Don't interrupt our conversation, Ouma-kun." Celeste chides, almost like a mother—like Kirumi, but not quite. There is no softness in her eyes, but there is warmth. A violent warmth, like a fire.

( _Gonta suppresses a shudder at the mention of fire._ )

Then it's gone, and she's straightening out her dress and _still_ smiling at Gonta. The latter decides not to mention the exchange that happened between her and Kokichi. To be honest, he's glad she intervened, be it out of concern or she just _really_ didn't want Kokichi to interrupt.

"Gonta Gokuhara, correct?" Gonta nods slowly, and Celeste giggles into her hand. "Oh, don't be so tense—I am a mere gambler, nothing more, nothing less. I'm not interested in Monokuma's little motive."

Kokichi steps over another piece of glass. A different piece crackles beneath his heel. "Someone out there is definitely interested, though." Another piece, another crackle. "At this rate, even if he doesn't show the time, these losers are probably desperate to get out by now."

Celeste narrows her eyes, and Gonta feels like he shouldn't be here. And he's probably right—he shouldn't be anywhere near Kokichi, nor should he be near anyone who would willingly associate themselves with him.. but Celeste didn't seem to like Kokichi in the slightest, although she did seem entertained by him a fair lot.

Entertainment. Hanging around someone because they can provide entertainment.

Because you don't actually care about them. You just want to be entertained.

Gonta remembers several faces before blocking everything out again. It's all he can do to avoid spiraling into something he doesn't need to deal with in front of these two. He knows little to nothing about Celeste and Kokichi..

( _Gonta doesn't trust Kokichi. He really wants to, but he can't._ )

".. Moving on." Gonta is shaken out of his stupor when Celeste raises her voice, even more so when she flashes the backs of her cards at him. They're colorful, a vibrant red with white engravings along every angle. They swirl around and into one another, halting abruptly at the middle to form a curly circle. They match her eyes, red and vibrant and radiating a dangerous _warmth_. "Would you like to play a game of cards, Gokuhara-kun?"

Kokichi sneers. "He doesn't even know how to count to thirty," he comments, and Gonta feels like sinking into the floor.

"Oh, but I can teach him how to play cards, Ouma-kun. Just like anyone could teach him how to count to thirty."

The cards practically fly from palm to palm—shuffling, if Gonta remembers correctly. As he watches her hands work on the cards, he notices the plated ring resting on her finger. Much like Korekiyo's pendants, it's a shimmering silver, and any light that makes it into the locale bounces right off of it.

( _There is no warmth in the light. It is cold._ )

The movement stops abruptly, and Celeste holds out five cards to the male. "Take a seat, Gokuhara-kun. I will take you through the basics.. and then we can bid our possessions."

"Gonta's gonna be _broke_ by the end of this," Kokichi quips cheerfully. He leans on the desk the female is seated upon, sleeve brushing against the hem of her stockings. Celeste's brow twitches, much like Kirumi's, but she continues to smile and sort through her own cards.

It takes fifteen minutes for Gonta to understand the game—Go Fish, Celeste called it, because it was easier to understand than the others. Kokichi watches, eyes flicking back and forth, and Gonta immerses himself in the cards in order to ignore him.

It does nothing, but it doesn't stop him one bit.

That is, until Celeste places down her last card and smiles up at him. Only three minutes had passed. Three minutes, and she won the game. Kokichi sneers loudly and the sound grates Gonta's eardrums. Fortunately, his ears don't start bleeding—he wasn't too sure that he'd be capable of explaining that.

"It would seem like I have won," she chirps. "To no surprise, given my talent with such practices, but you did well for someone such as yourself."

Celeste holds out her hand, watching as Gonta places the shattered glasses in her palm. She looks the item over, humming softly as she does so. "If I am to get out of here, this.. could be considered an artifact. It is worth a hefty lot, if my senses have anything to say about it."

Gonta takes to ( _carefully, one-by-one because his hands were larger and clumsier than Celeste's_ ) placing his numerous cards in a pile. He suspects that Celeste is lying, but he can't tell. Her current expression is incredibly difficult to read.

"Wait, really?" Kokichi leans forward, attempting to look into the cracked panes. "He was just walking around with _that_ much money on his face? How much was this thing worth when it wasn't broken, Celes?"

Celeste doesn't answer him. Kokichi deflates, harrumphing and crossing his arms as he slinks right back to his previous spot. It was only slightly amusing to watch, all before Gonta reminded himself that Kokichi wasn't someone he wanted to be around. He fiddles with his cards.

"Well, I suppose you should be off." Celeste tilts her head, smile widening only slightly. A slight upturn of the lips, one may say. "You're getting all tense, and it doesn't seem like you have anything else to bid. I look forward to playing another game with you—maybe a more complicated one next time, alright?"

"Hey! I was here, too!"

"You did nothing to contribute to our game."

Gonta scampers off before the conversation escalates too much. He's quite sure that Celeste can deal with whatever punches Kokichi happens to pull.

( _Gonta thinks he and Celeste grew a little closer.._ )

* * *

**｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**CELESTIA LUDENBERG's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

The hallway is still empty when Gonta reenters it. Half of him still wishes he'd stayed with Kirumi. She knows what she's doing, and she would've been able to guide him to his room in no time. She'd probably guide him through every route where Kokichi _wouldn't_ be, and that would prove to be especially helpful.

But he didn't want to bother her, so he returned to his aimless wandering. There was nothing else to do, it would seem.

Three hallways later, and he's stumbled into a room that is.. not his. No, it's not his, but it doesn't belong to anyone else, either, but there's definitely someone present. He doesn't remember her name, not in the slightest, nor does he remember seeing her face. There were too many new people for Gonta's liking; he liked making new friends, but this situation wasn't ideal.

None of this was ideal. Not in the slightest, but he supposes he has no choice—he reckons that he's right, too, which does nothing to help his case.

The female isn't aware of his presence, even though he reeks of wet grass and daffodils. If she is, then she simply hasn't greeted him like a gentlewoman would, and that doesn't sit too well with Gonta. He can appreciate everyone's respective traits, sure, but greetings were important.

( _... Gonta sounds like Taka. There's nothing bad about that, concerning the fact that Taka is qualified to be a gentleman, but still._ )

"Uh," Gonta clears his throat. The female stirs slightly, but doesn't turn to face him; her nose is stuck in a magazine. He narrows his eyes slightly—both due to the harshness of the lights hanging above and mild hostility. _Mild,_ if only because that's how he gets whenever someone does _this_. "Hello..? Gonta.. forgot your name, sorry."

"Don't apologize," she replies finally. Gonta flinches slightly.

Her voice is surprisingly soft, especially because of her muscular frame. Upper arms, at least, because those are the only things revealed. Otherwise, her legs are concealed by somewhat baggy stockings and a skirt. She turns to him, eyes dull but concentrated. ".. I don't remember your name, either."

There is a delicate silence that washes over them. It's not awkward, but it's not comfortable, either.

Gonta makes a face. "Gonta is Gonta Gokuhara."

The freckled girl makes a small noise of acknowledgement, hands resting on her thighs. That's all it takes for Gonta to realize the amount of washing machines lingering in the room. A laundry room—that would explain the constant rustling, since one of said machines was on duty. "I'm Mukuro."

Gonta waits for her to finish her name. She doesn't, and stares back at him blankly.

Gonta decides to respect her decision. God knows what she's capable of, especially since the male couldn't remember her Ultimate.

"Well.. Gonta is looking for help." Mukuro blinks at him, remaining dormant. It's almost as if she's not even alive, although the male knows better—the slight and occasional movements of her stomach indicate breathing, as does her blinking. "Gonta.. not able to find rooms."

She pauses. Then she's digging through her skirt's pocket, eyes never leaving Gonta's. "Is it because of your hair?"

( _What does Gonta's hair have to do with that?! Is there something wrong with it?!?_ )

Mukuro doesn't wait for a response. She stands from where she'd been seated—a seat that was practically glued to the wall—and advances towards the much taller male. Gonta remains still, shoulders squaring when she twirls her finger.

"Turn around." She instructs, and Gonta listens, because he's not too sure what's going on. Regardless, he's willing to comply to whatever anyone happens to say so long as they're not Kokichi or Angie.

( _Kokichi was self-explanatory. Meanwhile, Angie was just.. her devotion was definitely something that was unnerving now. He wouldn't be capable of playing into her hands because of some promised peace or whatever. Not after she got murdered like that last time._ )

His hair strains against his scalp a couple of times, but the sting dissolves near immediately every time. Very soon, the consistent pangs of pain stop completely, and he hears Mukuro take a step back. She seems to remain in place for a moment before humming.

"Keep the **ponytail holder** ," she says. There is something hidden in her voice, something upset, but Gonta doesn't feel obligated to question her. He knows he shouldn't, especially when she took time out of her day to aid him with.. something.

"Oh, and the rooms are down the left hall; the one you passed on your way here." And then she's snatching a magazine off the glass table and opening it. Gonta realizes that there are ripped and torn pages of the same woman laying at her feet. He says nothing about it.

Instead, he thanks her with a confused smile and exits the laundry room. Not like he'd need to use it anytime soon, especially since he was looking to change out of these clothes as soon as possible. Too many bad memories were stuck on them.

Part of him wonders what Mukuro did to his hair. The other part wonders _why_.

( _.. Did Gonta and Mukuro get closer?_ )

* * *

**｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**MUKURO IKUSABA's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

Mukuro wasn't lying, fortunately, and Gonta found himself in front of his room. A pixelated version of himself hung beneath the golden number plate—sixteen, he's number _sixteen, how many people are here again?_ —and it was almost mocking. No, scratch that, _it was blatant mocking._

The 8-bit Gonta's facial features were unrecognizable, bloated with angry red blotches and whatnot. A hole was integrated in the crude art's torso, pink residue leaking from the wound. To wrap it all together, the character was strapped to a stake, helpless and susceptible to torment.

This only fueled his intrusive thoughts.

He wanted to rip it right off, but he chose not to go along with such a thought. After all, Monokuma didn't want anything to be broken ( _apart from the glass object that'd been demolished by Celeste; the bear didn't seem to care about that_ ) and Gonta didn't want to die here. Not again, not when he was being given another chance at life.

.. That is, if the game goes like all the others. Monokuma was difficult to pin down, that's for sure, so Gonta couldn't be too sure what could happen. All he knew was that he wasn't going to die here.

( _Gonta might die here. After all, it was his gullibility that landed him here in the first place._ )

The thought, loud as it may be, was brushed off when the door creaked open. Much like the double doors that led into the dining hall, these doors felt delicate, fragile. They weren't new, not in the slightest, which put Gonta under the impression that this was just some rundown facility or something. For someone who talks big about having all the money in the world, Monokuma's budget was looking pretty low.

Tentative, the looming male ducks his head under his door frame and enters the room. The door is shut behind him with haste, for Gonta wasn't expecting any visitors. Nobody was supposed to come in, and nobody would, because he locked it soon afterwards.

He stands there for a moment, processing his current situation.

Another killing game—a killing game that has more than _sixteen_ dead people present—where he had to act as a participant. He looks down at his hands, choosing to clench the uncloaked one tightly. His nails dig into his palm slightly, although he pays no attention to the faint stinging as he stares at the glove.

( _Why does he have this glove? Don't they usually come in pairs?_ )

Gonta exhales through his nose. Then he turns towards the closet, which is sealed and surprisingly pristine. With a huff, he marches over towards his concealed wardrobe, murmuring to himself all the while; "Gonta's gonna get through this. Not gonna die, not like last time.."

When he opens the closet, he feels confused. Only a few of the clothing items looked like the ones he wore as of right—if anything, this was the _only_ one-color set of clothing he had. That was most likely because all of the other vests and suits and _pants_ weren't all the same color.

White. All of of his shirts are white, whereas all of the vests ( _a select few have engravings—both golden and silver, much to his delight_ ) and pants are black. He notices some neckties slung over hangers and poles, each of them a different shade of green.

There are only three gloves. All of them are for his left hand.

At least he'd have that, although he _really_ didn't want to know why Monokuma decided to change his clothing like this.

Then again, he'd do anything to get rid of the memories tainting _these_ clothes.

( _All of them are the same. He's just being overdramatic._ )

So, for a second, Gonta sorts through the clothing; he's in the bathroom within seconds, changing into the new clothing and staring at himself in the mirror soon afterwards. It's then that he realizes two things.

One, the clothing looks nice on him and, as a result, he finds himself liking it. Yes, liking the clothes your kidnapper gave you. Definitely not a problem.

Secondly, his hair isn't all over the place. Instead, it was tied in a ponytail _—_ that explains why Mukuro said he could _keep the ponytail holder_. Goodness, if he's gonna survive this killing game, he'll need to pay closer attention to what his classmates say. Otherwise, he's as good as dead.

( _Could they be considered classmates at this point?_ )

Gonta pushes the first brown heap of clothing beneath his mattress upon exiting the bathroom; even if it all looks the same, those ones just made him uncomfortable.

Out of sight, out of mind, he reasons _—even if that's not the case with Kokichi._ He finds himself readjusting the bow tie around his collar several times. Not because there's something wrong with it or anything; he's just fidgeting.

Then, for the second time, he finds himself standing idle. His gaze flicks around the room _—_ it looks the same, for the most part. There are paintings of beetles and bumblebees on the walls, although there is no _life_ in the locale. Well, other than the flowers that decorate the top of his headboard and the dresser and the nightstand; _there are a lot of flowers, goodness gracious._

There's a golden trophy of a toilet paper roll laying beside one of the flower pots. He refuses to acknowledge it.

Gonta inhales. It smells like lavender and wet grass ( _the second smell is, most likely, coming from him_ ). There's a faint daffodil hidden somewhere in there, but it's overshadowed by the other scents. He doesn't fret over it.

( _Gonta don't wanna sit here for the rest of the day.._ )

( _Maybe Gonta can keep exploring..?_ )

( _No, Gonta already did that._ )

( _.. What else can Gonta do..?_ )

He doesn't move from his spot, although his upper body does sway slightly. His eyes flutter, but he shakes it off before any drowsiness can seep into his system. No, he doesn't want to go to sleep, but he doesn't know what to do with himself. Well, he knows what he wants to do, but his body doesn't want to _cooperate with him—_

His thoughts overlap for a moment, soon stopping altogether. Slowly, Gonta advances towards his nightstand, squinting as the lamp glares at him. After getting past that initial blindness, he realizes what he's staring at; a glasses case.

Very much willing to stop the constant burning of his eyes, the finely dressed male pops open the case. Rectangular glasses lay on a cushion, looking far too expensive for Gonta's liking, with tiny flowers and vines dancing along the stems. The word 'Monokuma' lays on the other side, written with bold white letters and a trademark sign.

With a speck of hesitance _—_ because he was already wearing something Monokuma prepared for him, as much as he hated the thought of growing accustomed to such a place _—_ he slides the glasses on. The burning gradually wears away, and he finds himself peeling his eyes away from the case as he sets it back down on the nightstand.

Okay, wonderful, Monokuma knows what type of glasses were prescribed to him _._ Totally not creepy in any way whatsoever.

Then again, should he really be surprised at this point? The e-Handbook shows everyone's chest sizes, for crying out loud.

Just as he's coming to terms with the idea of laying down for the remainder of the day, someone knocks on his door. The door jingles once, twice, and then Gonta decides to unlock it—then the door is practically ripped open by yet another person.

.. Ibuki Mioda, right? Gonta is a bit too exhausted from lingering around the likes of Kokichi and Celeste, alongside the fact that Mukuro's presence was.. dreary, to say the least. Even if she'd given him a ponytail holder and provided assistance, her eyes looked like she'd seen some things.

( _Everyone here has seen things._ )

The ecstatic girl grins up at him, and he feels the need to return the favor. So, without missing a beat, he does so, albeit with far less spunk than Ibuki. She seems to take it in stride regardless, happy to get a reaction out of the looming male.

"Oh! Ibuki was sent by Kiyo," she points down the hallway, although there is nobody there. Gonta doesn't think too much of it, though he does wonder _which_ Kiyo she's talking about. Korekiyo or Kiyotaka? He may never know.

Ibuki must sense his confusion, because she perks right back up and places her hands on her hips instead. "Y'know, the 'Rules Are Cool' dude? Mr. Leader Boy?"

Nevermind, it's definitely Kiyotaka.

"Anyways, yeah _—_ he told Ibuki to retrieve anyone who found their rooms n' stuff! Ibuki heard that you were exploring from Rumi, and then Kuro said you went to your room!" She looks all too proud of herself when she speaks, but, again, Gonta doesn't judge. Not like he can, because she's already turning heel and running off. "Now, Ibuki's gotta go round everyone else up! See ya, Hara!"

( _... That's a new one. 'Hara'.._ )

With a small hum, Gonta decides that he doesn't really have a choice. After all Kiyotaka didn't look like the type of person who liked stragglers. The last thing he wanted to do was get on someone's bad side _—especially_ under circumstances such as this. He closes his door behind him, staring down at his gloved hand with narrowed eyes.

_(Gonta doesn't look back. He knows that the pixelated version of him will be there, mocking him for getting himself wrapped up in Kokichi's schemes.)_

The thought that accompanies the stare is wiped away quickly, but it lingers. It always will, for as long as he has to stay here with the person he killed and the person who ( _practically_ ) killed him.

Gonta advances towards the dining hall nonetheless, hands clenched at his sides as he notices others emerging from different rooms and different corridors, each person having a different outfit than before.

Looks like everyone shared the same feelings about their previous clothes. They just _reek_ of bad memories, if their sullen auras have anything to say.

Gonta should ask Monokuma about these sudden, small changes. He _should_ , he really should, but maybe he'll leave that to Kiyotaka. After all, the male was not only louder, but could actually abide by the rules to a certain degree.

He sees three people; three people he has already conversed with or knew in a previous life; approach the dining hall. None of them say anything. Out of all of them, Nagito looks the most decent; the other two.. not so much. Korekiyo looks shaken up and is shivering ( _either because they're cold or something else_ ), whereas there's a grim expression on Gundham's face.

Well, he did say that he'd never play into the hands of Monokuma.. and now he's wearing the clothes _Monokuma_ assigned to him.

(.. _Nagito has clovers wrapped around one of his bandaged arms. Did he always have those bandages? Maybe, maybe not; Gonta couldn't exactly see beneath his hoodie's sleeves at first, but now he was missing one._ )

( _Gundham's hair is.. different? Slightly? It looks a bit more curled to the side.. His new scarf is a bit tattered, as is one of his cloak's sleeves. Speaking of which, that cloak is longer than the previous one. His crows are nestled in his scarf, although they radiate a dreadful aura._ )

( _.. Looks like Korekiyo got a ponytail, too; it's wrapped off by a ribbon, though, and still trails down to their waist. The mask, of course, remains untouched._ )

( _Did Monokuma blow the budget on these new little trinkets or something? Is it to just appeal to the audience more?_ )

(...)

(. _. Gonta kinda looks like a detective, even if he only has a glove. He wonders what Shuichi would say, if only for a moment._ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter One: Compulsive Liar Syndrome - PART TWO**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 25**

**Celestia Ludenberg's Report Card Update:**

_While she does associate herself with Kokichi, Celeste doesn't seem to be a fan of him. If anything, she may have kept him around for a good card game or two. Otherwise, she seemed to pay complete attention to Gonta, if only to formally introduce herself and offer a game of cards. When they parted ways, she said that she's looking forward towards another game._

**Mukuro Ikusaba's Report Card Update:**

_Mukuro is.. mysterious, more so than the likes of Gundham and Celeste. She wasn't really looking to say her last name, even if the e-Handbook mentions it in her report card regardless. She gave Gonta a ponytail holder and even tied up his hair; she didn't even explain why she did it.._

_****｡･ﾟﾟ･**** ( **Gonta has obtained a present:** **PONYTAIL HOLDER** **.** ) ** **｡･ﾟﾟ･****_


	4. A Body Has Been Discovered!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything goes wrong.

The walk towards the dining hall is, overall, uneventful. Gonta knows better than to attempt conversation with someone who looks emotionally constipated ( _read; Korekiyo_ ), and he already knows that Gundham isn't interested in conversation. Not right now, anyways, because he was making an effort to avoid all forms of eye contact. Nagito remained strangely cheerful, although he didn't say anything.

A strange trio of fellows that Gonta had chosen to associate himself with, but he wasn't in any position to complain. Not when they treated him with more hospitality than others.

Korekiyo's eyes roll over towards Gonta. They remain silent, but manage to regard him with a small nod; one of affirmation or greeting, Gonta can't really tell. Regardless, he has no time to ponder over it, as they look forward again and claw at their sleeves.

The haori cloaking their body seems to bring no warmth, nor does it bring solace. The anthropologist, the one who remained level-headed at all times ( _lest they were the prime and only suspect of a case_ ), showed no signs of calming down.

They were frantic, obviously. They'd seen something that they hadn't wanted to see. This was merely the aftermath of such an experience.

Gonta left them to it. If anything, he'd just inconvenience them further.

Gundham is set on staring forward. Not once do his pupils turn his way—they're clouded, distant, you could say—and his fists are clenched at his sides. He is irate, but is behaving. Be it for his pride or something completely different.

The crows have settled down, as they were pecking and pulling at the already decimated scarf wrapped around his neck. Gonta swears he can see small splatters of blood, all dried up and soaked into the fabrics, but his eyes pull away all too quickly when Gundham stirs.

Fortunately, his eyes do not land on him. However, it feels like too much of a risk to focus on him, especially under these cirumstances.

Gonta wants nothing to do with that. Not right now, anyways.

( _Gundham looked very capable of strangling a person at that very moment, Gonta thought._ )

Nagito was a completely different scenario, but that only made Gonta see him as completely and utterly unapproachable. Even with bandages wrapped securely around his arm, looking so tight that it'd prevent blood flow, he was smiling and had a slight skip in his step.

It was difficult to tell if the smile was genuine or not, even after hanging around the likes of Kokichi for more than just a few hours. However, the aura that he hosted truly combated the skip in his step—his eyes were void of emotion and, in short, blank. _That_ was more befitting of the dangerous emotions wafting off of him.

( _It smells putrid because of it. Maybe the hallways smelled putrid before this._ )

( _Gonta wouldn't know. Gonta didn't want to know._ )

Gonta doesn't bother any of them. None of them look consolable at the moment. Instead, he tampers with his glove, snapping it against his wrist.

There is a vibrant sting left in it's wake. He bites back a wince, knowing good and well that the glove didn't hurt his skin a few moments before. Was there a scar beneath it, or perhaps some sort of mechanism that kept it from coming off?

He stares at it with contempt. Because it is an inanimate object, it does not stare back.

It's quite annoying.

The sound of doors opening break him from his thoughts. Shaking off the sting, although it has depleted immensely over the past few seconds and needs no assistance leaving, Gonta walks in after Korekiyo.

Nagito peeks from behind him, earning a collective groan from most of the participants in Kiyotaka's meeting. Korekiyo merely shudders and steps away from the forming circle, clearly uncomfortable. Gundham follows suit, although his crows scream at any who draw near.

There aren't too many people, Gonta realizes. Must've meant that Ibuki was still gathering others, or maybe some people just refused to show up. Even then, there is the underlying feeling that some people may have never found their rooms.

That would explain Kirumi's absence. She _did_ remain in the dining hall after telling Gonta to go explore, but was nowhere in sight. A fragment of Gonta thinks she'll end up like Rantaro—cold, dead, laying on a floor with blood pooling around her broken in head.

The thought is but a flash in Gonta's mind. It shakes him to the very core, but he squares his shoulders and inhales deeply.

( _How does one stop thinking? Do they have to die?_ )

( _Gonta considers death for a second, if only to rid himself of these other thoughts. His situation only worsens._)

Instead of dwelling on that image, that _dreadful, despairing_ image, Gonta takes in the appearances of those around them. If they'd entered their room, it was more than likely that they'd changed their clothing as well—after all, a corpse doesn't wish to awaken in the clothing bearing their trauma. Survivor's guilt was one thing, but being dragged from a place of occasional tranquility was another.

Both had their fair share of traumatizing events, Gonta supposed offhandedly.

Mondo entered his line of sight first. He looked quite different, if Gonta could say so himself—the end of his pompadour was curled slightly, far less bumpy than before and less comparable to an ear of corn. A few strands, dark and closer to the untouched roots, swirl behind his head. His eyes are as fierce as they were before.

However, his attire is completely different. Gonta doesn't know what he was expecting.

His arms are exposed, revealing the long, scaled dragon that dances along his biceps. It ends only at his wrist, but the head is not revealed to the human eye. Gonta thinks it may be located somewhere beneath the clothing. The jacket is ripped around the sleeves, threads straining to hold themselves together over mounds of well-kept muscle.

( _..Gonta vaguely thinks about having an arm-wrestling contest with him. Some deeper part of him insinuates.. other activities._ )

Gonta blinks slowly at the thought. Not only is it intrusive, but it.. beckons an activity that is too closely related to Miu and her antics.

His pants are, more or less, the same—baggy and hanging mere millimetres over the beginning of his feet, kept at bay with.. bandages. The same substance is wrapped tightly around the beginning of his wrist, ending a few meters from the beginning of his elbow as a stretch. The hospital item is _quite_ popular in terms of attire, it would seem.

A pair of belts are bound around his waist, not quite beneath the hooks of the pants. Ripped mesh fibers hang beneath them, seemingly ripped to shreds. Whatever it was, it was once much longer. Mondo doesn't look too fond of it, almost as if he can't remove it.

( _Gonta leaves his observation at that. He isn't too fond of the ideal of getting caught looking someone up and down— especially when that someone is Mondo._)

Just as Gonta's eyes flicker over towards the next person, Mondo looks his way. He feels himself being looked up and down, and even when he looks back over at the male, he is met with a scrutinizing gaze. It bores into his very soul.

Mondo says nothing, but nods slowly in the finer-looking male's direction. Then he's looking off again, aura flaring right back up into its aggressive state. Gonta decides that he likes having their interactions kept short.

Gonta gives a belated nod in response. It is, of course, not acknowledged.

Chihiro is by his side, seemingly looking around at others in awe. His—her— _their_ eyes wash over the entomologist, then they whip right back to him. They take a tentative step away from the biker, staring up at him with wide eyes. When he doesn't react, they turn towards the bug-lover and make their way over.

They look quite spiffy, if Gonta does say so himself. He hasn't a clue what the word means, but it is typically used in a positive sense. Their skirt is as frilly as ever, white engravings sketching zeroes and ones into the fabrics. A hefty sweater lays upon their shoulders, buttons opened near the top to reveal the patterned tee beneath.

Their hair, much like the others, has been altered; hair clips keep it from cloaking their eyes, and a small pair of braids hang side-by-side behind their ears. There is a soft blush to their cheeks.

( _Gonta considers the pros and cons of calling them 'cute'. There are too many cons._ )

"Oh! You're Gokuhara, right?" They're bustling with excitement, and Gonta can _feel_ their desire to learn. Even under these circumstances, they seem to be keeping their head up—doing so in a manner that's far more sane than Nagito. "Ah, can I call you by your first name? 'Gokuhara-kun' is.. a little difficult to say."

Gonta relaxes, reaching up to adjust his glasses. They were constantly sliding down the bridge of his nose—what a disappointing feature. "Gonta don't mind! Call Gonta whatever you want."

He stops. Chihiro regards him with a slightly weary look.

".. Call Gonta non-insults, he means." The entomologist corrects himself. The weariness attached to Chihiro's face doesn't waver, but they seem a little more sure of themselves. "Gonta fine with most things."

"Including insults? Man, you're kinda like a pushover, ain't ya?" Gonta's spine tightens and his shoulders, for the umpteenth time that evening, square. He feels uncomfortable.

Mondo looms over Chihiro's daintier form, eyes narrowed in what appeared to be concentration. His shoulders flop to his sides abruptly, and he leans back to regard Gonta with a wolfish grin. The smaller of the two lets loose a small sigh—it sounds like one of relief, in fact, but Gonta cannot fathom what it hails from.

( _.. Mondo seems like a violent person, but Gonta doesn't want to believe that._ )

"Hey, don't seize up because I'm talkin'!" Mondo practically barks, and Gonta adverts his eyes from his heaving chest. It rumbles with every shout, but nobody looks over. His high volume is probably normal. "'sides, you were looking _real_ hard a few minutes ago. Talking shouldn't be too difficult after that, I'd say."

"Talking is _very_ difficult, Mondo," Chihiro titters. "Looking and observing is always easier."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, bean." He drops a hand onto Chihiro's head and they flinch slightly. Mondo's grin becomes a little more strained, forced to be kept from wavering.

Gonta feels like one of them caused the other's untimely demise, even if they're all buddy-buddy right now. Lying seems to be quite common among the people he's met thus far.

Even Kirumi lies to herself, saying that she'll keep the peace. Gonta wants to trust her, he truly does, but he feels like someone will succumb.

That's how it always goes, it would seem. Someone _always_ succumbs.

Any further conversation would feel all to strained, so Gonta peels his eyes away from the two and smiles faintly. It isn't a true smile, he knows that much, but he hopes neither of them question him any further. Friends are always good, but this was a killing game.

One of their deaths, if not _both of their deaths_ were inevitable. Monokuma always finds a way to instigate things, no matter how difficult it may seem.

Neither of the two stop him from leaving. While he would normally be hurt or maybe even a little confused about such an occurrence, Gonta is actually quite relieved. He wasn't in much of a talking mood after engaging with Nagito and the other duo, anyways.

A set of claps fills the room, and Gonta turns towards the source of it: it's none other than Kiyotaka Ishimaru, a vibrant white banner wrapped around his right shoulder and holstered to his opposite hip. His uniform doesn't look too different, apart from the additional medals dangling over empty pockets. Thick red kanji is written along the banner.

( _Gonta reckons he looks like some sort of a prince. He doesn't say it out loud, though._ )

Kiyotaka's spiraling pupils scan the participants in his meeting; he then narrows his eyes slightly, although there is nothing hidden behind them. There is only a calculated gaze, as if he's judging everyone's current attires and deeming them worthy or not. Mondo and Chihiro shuffle slightly.

The three know each other well, but not well enough to be unbothered by the intensity that lived inside Kiyotaka's eyes. His arched brows furrow with every person that enters his field of sight, soon leaving him with what appears to be a glare.

Then he smiles and everything lightens up, if only slightly, as he outstretches his hands in greetings. "I was expecting more people, but I mustn't dally in my announcement! After all, keeping an audience waiting is quite a task."

Nagito utters something about 'symbols of hope' before he's silenced by Mahiru, who pulls on a stray lock of bleached hair and twists it. The male only looks slightly disgruntled.

How interesting.

( _And concerning, but Gonta doesn't let that thought reside in his head for too long. Don't get attached to too many people. You'll just leave them again._ )

( _Or they'll leave you._)

With a slow blink, Gonta comes to his senses and listens to Kiyotaka's rambling. Well, the male in question refers to it as a speech, but Gonta knows when someone happens to be rambling. Shuichi used to do it all the time whenever he got nervous, shoulders shivering in time with his spine.

Kiyotaka reminds him of the frail detective; just with a far more powerful presence. He would make for a great leader, Gonta thinks, but then remembers what happened to the _last_ person who wanted to be the leader.

The thought of someone, anyone laying on the floor with blood seeping out of their skull grows slightly. Gonta gives up on trying to control it, letting it dwell in the pits of his mind with fragments of a personality he's forgotten already.

Kiyotaka squints slightly. "While I was originally going to bring up the topic of our changes in attire," he adjusts the banner strapped to his shoulder, looking somewhat proud of himself. Then he deflates back into his typical demeanor and regards everyone with a scrutinizing stare. "I feel as if there is no need for that. Not when most people—as the small headcount has revealed—haven't even found about about their wardrobe changes."

"Speaking of which.. Ibuki hasn't returned with another candidate yet." Several people share glances with one another—Mahiru places a hand over her mouth, Gundham mutters something under his breath, Nekomaru tightens his jaw and Nagito's eyes widen, if only slightly.

 _Everyone_ is reacting to that, even if it could've just been because she was looking around for things—

The doors burst open and Maizono, cloaked in a cold sweat with frantic eyes, lets out a cluttered noise before wheezing out, "body! There's— _body_!" Then she collapses, either from exhaustion or shock or maybe even a mixture of the two.

It's silent, but only for a second. Then, all at once, _it erupts._

While Kaede and Mahiru rush over towards the unconscious girl, everyone else dissolves into a panic. Even Kiyotaka, as confident as he'd been mere moments ago, goes pale and takes a step back. Gonta _thinks_ he can hear someone crying, but he can't be too sure, _he doesn't want to be sure._

( _.. Sayaka never said who the body belonged to..!_ )

"Like hell someone was stupid enough to do somethin' like that!" Mondo curses, but his pupils have shrunken and his fists are _whitening._ "No fuckin' way.. I don't.. They _wouldn't.."_

Chihiro looks around slowly, shaking but managing to keep it together ( _if only by a couple of threads, like the ones holding Mondo's sleeves' remains together_ ). They wrap their hands around their fuzzy sleeves and pull, biting their lip. "S-she didn't say where, though..! W-we need to make sure she's not wrong!"

"I agree with Chihiro!" Kiyotaka's typically booming voice falters somewhere in the middle of his sentence, and he looks mere moments from breaking down. To think, he'd been interrupted by someone announcing that they'd seen a _corpse_ or something damn close to one laying around, _someone_ , unattended. "We.. need to do a search! Akamatsu-san and Mahiru-san—please, watch over Maizono! Make sure she doesn't have any wounds!"

"On it!" "You can count on us!"

Kiyotaka's gaze meets Gonta's, and the latter knows what he has to do. There are no words shared between them—Gonta merely turns heel and exits through the very doors Sayaka nearly broke down.

( _Gonta tries not to look at her shivering and quaking body._ )

Footsteps trail after him and, after looking over his shoulder, he realizes that Mondo is following after him. The latter, much like Kiyotaka, says nothing, but urges him on with a shake of his head. If Gonta knew any better, he'd say that the male was just as petrified as he was.

But he says nothing, if only to focus on the important aspects of this.

* * *

The once putrid scent that wafts through the hallways had become unbearable within the span of a few minutes—Mondo had scrunched up his nose and Gonta felt his eyes producing _tears_ from how rancid it'd become. It flared up in some spots and, in others, it remained soft, nearly akin to fabric softener or the gentle scent of a rose.

.. Which definitely meant something was amiss. Even with that information, he denied that it had anything to do with a corpse. Corpses don't smell like that (at least, he _prays_ that they don't and it's just Monokuma trying to manipulate them like it always does).

"It's.. comin' from the laundry room." Mondo spits out something, but immediately covers his mouth and coughs into his palms. He looks immensely disgusted and Gonta presumes it's because he inhaled some of the scent _through his mouth_. "We.. we should really see what's in there, huh..?"

Mondo is hesitant. Gonta, too, is hesitant. The doors to a locale where clothing is washed and scented in a more pleasant manner have never looked so terrifying before.

Despite it all, Gonta finds himself cracking open one of the doors—regret washes over him in the form of a full-body shudder, the scent only amplifying as washing machines clamor through the empty locale.

The locale is, surprisingly, empty. Stacks of freshly-cleaned blankets and untouched clothing lay in heaps along the benches, although a lot of the more heavier articles of clothing ( _like Mondo's previous jacket_ ) are stacked atop of the washing machine hatch.

( _There.. are two openings on the washing machines.._ )

One washing machine in particular is loud. Louder than the rest, with thumping and scraping hailing from inside of it. Gonta vaguely recalls that one being on, and nothing of the sort occurring when it was.

Which could only mean...

_Thump.._

_Thump.._

Gonta takes a step inside, and nearly slips from how wet the floors are. Instead, he finds purchase on Mondo's arm—said male keeps him steady, taking a step forward in order to act as a crutch for the bare-footed entomologist. He opens his mouth to say something, but finds himself speechless at the constant scraping and thudding of the machine.

"You don't think.." Mondo starts, slowly, voice small and _worried_.

Gonta says nothing in response. He knows he _can't_ say anything.

_Thump.._

_Thump.._

The washing machine shows no signs of stopping, even with the scraping and cries of agony ( _metaphorically, but Gonta wonders if someone was once screaming for help in there; the concept alone is too much for him.._ ) hailing from within. It rumbles a bit, but continues all the while.

Gonta can't see through the glass— _Monokuma did that on purpose, didn't it?_

Gonta, with the help of Mondo keeping him from slipping on the floor, advances towards the washing machine. He's tentative, eyes scanning over the different options with little words scribbled beneath, over and on them. He searches for the one that acts as an off button.

"We don't got all day, y'know," Mondo grumbles, and Gonta knows that he's tasking his thoughts with something else.

_Thump.._

_Thu—_

The machine stops.

A knob has been twisted, shutting it off completely. The scent remains, somehow worst than before. This, sadly, proves Gonta's reluctant theories. He gestures for Mondo to let him go. Once that's said and done, Gonta balances on slippery feet and grabs onto the latch.

His hand shakes, and, with a regretful yank, it opens.

Gonta wishes he hadn't opened it. When the innards of the machine are revealed, Mondo stumbles back and Gonta nearly trips over his own feet trying to scramble away from the sight.

Alas, he was sure he wouldn't be able to _ever_ remove that image from his mind. Not today, not tomorrow, _never._

"What.." Mondo places a hand over his mouth, gaze as frantic as Sayaka's. He, too, begins to sweat erratically; his voice is the only thing that refuses to tremble. " _What the fuck..?!_ "

_Gonta wants to scream, but he can't. The sound refuses to leave his lips, and he is left to stare in utter disbelief at the sight before him._

There, with frightened, bloodshot eyes and a soap-filled mouth—limbs slack and dormant, most likely cold and wrinkly beneath whatever muscle was left in her frail body—laid the dead body of **Ibuki Mioda, the Ultimate Musician**.

( _Why did everyone have to be right..? This.. this wasn't.._ )

* * *

_♩ ♫ ♬ ♩ ♫ ♬_

_"A body has been discovered!"_

_♩ ♫ ♬ ♩ ♫ ♬_

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter One: Compulsive Liar Syndrome - KILLING LIFE BEGIN**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 24**


	5. Compulsive Liar Syndrome (Killing Life)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a investigation takes place.

Gonta's knees are soaked by the time some of the others enter. Their reactions are, more or less, the same as his—Mikan seems to be the most affected, legs trembling at the sight and hands gripping the surgical gloves that covered her skin. Her eyes were wild, searching the locale until they rested on Ibuki's dead body ( _which had, without Gonta noticing, been hulled out of the washing machine and placed on the tiled floor_ ).

Mahiru's hand placement is the only thing that keeps Mikan from screaming.

( _She.. must've been close to the victim._ )

Mondo stares down at the body, which is contorted because of the way it'd been stuffed in the washing machine. Bodies aren't supposed to bend like that—arms eroding on themselves and legs crooked. Hair halos the floor, wetter than before due to the water littering the floor.

Ibuki's eyes stare back at him. Gonta can hear loud pleads for help, but can't answer them. Not anymore.

This could've been prevented. This _could've_ been prevented, but it happened anyways because of how _stupid_ Gonta was to believe that Kirumi had everything under control. How are you supposed to control _twenty five_ people?

A hand drops onto Gonta's shoulder and he flinches out of his daze. He feels the need to bite down on his fist, but chooses against it. He's quite sure he'd draw blood if he were to try such a thing.

Kaede stares over him, eyes focused on the body. Her brows curve and a look of remorse crosses over her features—Mikan has long since stopped trying to scream, and has settled on small sniffles. Mahiru and Pekoyama are the only forces keeping her from stumbling over.

"She was alive a few minutes ago," Kaede whispers solemnly. Gonta says nothing, unable to find his voice as he stares at the corpse. The pianist shudders out a sigh, rising from beside Gonta and choosing to stand beside his kneeling form.

Just as she opens her mouth to speak, Monokuma hops up from behind the washing machine. Pekoyama draws her weapon, taking up a defensive stance in front of the people crowded around her—the bear chortles, paws on its belly as it laughs at the threat.

It does not fear death, nor does it fear being destroyed. Gonta understood that a long time ago, especially when it was in the presence of people like Nekomara and Sakura.

( _Gonta hates everything about this. Wouldn't be the first time, that's for sure_ _._ )

"Upupupu! Stand down, my darling cubs!" It looks down and feigns surprise, jumping up and nearly falling behind the washing machine again. "Oh my! Looks like someone was eager to take my little offer— _someone's_ stocked up on bath bombs, puhuhu!"

What?

_What?_

( _Gonta silences his anger before it can erupt any further than that._ )

Rantaro observes Monokuma with a blank gaze. It rivals Monokuma's joking tone, and Gonta believes that he was gradually losing composure. God knows what Rantaro was capable of, concerning the fact that he's been a laid-back dude all this time.

"But uh-oh! There was a **witness** to this murder, so the blackened won't be getting out of here without any problems!" Monokuma poses dramatically as its words settle it. There's no time to question it, if anyone planned on doing so, because it brandishes a folder from _somewhere_ behind its back and waves it about mockingly.

"Now, who'd like to read my little file, hm? Get this investigation's blood _pumping_ —"

Pekoyama, who had previously been near the entryway, snatches the file from Monokuma's nubby paws. She says nothing, but regards him with a heavy gaze that holds malicious intent. Monokuma remains unfazed by the expression, beginning to whistle a tune.

( _She's quick.. alarming so, even if she's the Ultimate Swordswoman._ )

She steps away from Ibuki's body, fierce expression faltering ever so slightly. She looks down at the file before sighing softly, beginning to read it aloud to the others; "The victim is Ibuki Mioda. The time of death is estimated to be around **two in the afternoon**. The body was discovered by **four people** , the final founders being Mondo and Gonta. Cause of death is identified to be from being drowned."

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Monokuma File #1**

**A folder with the first murder case's details written in it.**

**'The victim is Ibuki Mioda. The time of death is estimated to be around two in the afternoon. The body was discovered by four people, the final beholders being Mondo and Gonta. Cause of death is identified to be from being drowned.'**

* * *

Mondo grits his teeth, but Gonta's mind draws a blank.

Four people? He was pretty sure only three people, including himself, had located the body—Sayaka, Mondo and him. If there's a fourth person involved in all of this, that'd mean that _someone_ had seen the body before or _right after_ Sayaka and said nothing about it.

That was sketchy and, for a moment, Gonta begins to doubt the people around him. Anyone of them could've seen the body at first and refused to say anything about it, even when it was made apparent that murder wouldn't be condoned in any way whatsoever during their stay here.

Monokuma was right. They _did_ say that last time, and look where they are now. Crowded around some poor girl's dead body and, potentially, standing in the same vicinity as a murderer.

Kaede makes a face, choosing to voice her thoughts. "Four people..? Wasn't Sayaka the first person to discover the body?"

Monokuma interjects, giggling all the while. Such a vile little thing, undeserving of being called a 'bear'; but there was nothing else to call it, so Gonta silenced his angered thoughts and listened. "Oh, my little piano cub, I'm so glad you asked! If you'd looked over the rules a bit closer.."

The bear brandishes its claws, holding them up threateningly. " **At least f** **our people must find a body for the announcement to go off!** Otherwise, no dice!"

Sakura's eyes wash over the room. Not everyone is present, but Gonta presumes that having _everyone_ in the laundry room would be rather troublesome. He decides he prefers the smaller numbers, as concerning as it is.

".. Someone, here or not, saw Ibuki's body and said nothing about it?" She inquires. Nobody says anything, stunned into silence. Looks of disbelief and distrust are exchanged between students, people gritting their teeth and whispering their accusations to one another.

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Fourth Body Discover / A Witness**

**Monokuma said that at least four people need to locate a body for the announcement to go off, which means that someone saw the body before Sayaka; _someone_ saw the murder take place. Who could've seen it without getting caught by the blackened..?**

* * *

A rumbling laugh escapes Monokuma's belly. Gonta cringes at the noise, wanting to scrub his ears clean of the sound ( _even if he knows it'd be futile, no matter what_ ).

"Hey, listen up!" A strong voice breaks through the sound of Monokuma's annoying laugh. It belongs to none other than Tenko, who's standing tall and holding out her hands—much like Pekoyama, she was in a defensive position, but had yet to drop out of it. "That file—it said two in the afternoon, right?"

She whips her head towards Korekiyo, who's been staring at their boots for the past hour. They flinch away from her gaze a bit, muttering something about how 'someone's rage shouldn't be inflicted upon their person' while Tenko gestures toward their pocket-watch. "Time! Give us the time, degenerate!"

( _Even after Korekiyo deducted that they weren't bound to the male gender, that didn't seem to matter to Tenko. She was still bitter.)_

Uncharacteristically, they fumble with the watch—hesitantly, they pop it open, if only after looking back over at the waiting classmates. They look weary. "It's.. three in the afternoon.."

Gonta's body seizes up, and Nagito sounds like he's choking on something before a slightly crazed look crosses his features. That was the first time Gonta had seen him _react_ to soemthing related to the death of the Ultimate Musician. "She was dead for an entire _hour_? She was just walking around, telling everyone about Kiyotaka's hopeful announcement!"

Kiyotaka remains silent. He looks guilty, but not for the reason one would think under these circumstances. Perhaps he blames himself for Ibuki's untimely demise.

Perhaps.

Kaede takes a small step towards the body, narrowly avoiding stepping on her hair. The body is broken, pale and sickly from being stuffed in such an 'absurd' space. The pianist grimaces at the sight, and Gonta notes how bad she is with handling dead bodies.

Monokuma yawns from its perch on the machine. "Well, now that you're _finally_ done with your stupid panicking.." It taps its wrist hurriedly, acting as if there's a watch strapped to their arm. "Clock's ticking! Tick, tick, tick! You got two hours before it's trial time!" And then, just like that, the bear disappears behind the machine again.

It's quiet, uncomfortably so as everyone stares at the body of a vibrant, happy person. Once. Once, was she a vibrant, happy person. Gonta wouldn't know. He never spent any time with her, and now she was dead.

Mondo seizes Gonta's shoulder. "Dude, get off the floor." He mutters, and Gonta has to keep himself from lurching forward as he stands up. His pants are wet, but he supposes it doesn't really matter. Not when the article of clothing is already black and, therefore, doesn't allow the wetness to be seen.

Not only that, but there are more pressing matters at hand. Like the corpse—which had been reduced to such a state over the span of an _hour_ —laying on the floor before them all.

Mikan sniffles again, rubbing at her eyes. She then staggers forward, still shaken up and recovering from the initial shock of the situation. Mahiru says something to her, but her words don't reach the nurse—she drops down beside Ibuki's body, staring at it with gloomy eyes.

There is no rage, no regret. Sorrow dwells deep within her irises.

Nobody says anything. Gonta feels inclined to look away from the exchange, but he can't. Not when those dull eyes are staring right back at him, paralyzed and lifeless. She must've suffered during her death.

( _Gonta thinks he may vomit. He thinks, but he doesn't know._)

"I.." Mikan's voice trails off. Her breath hitches, and she suppresses a sob. "I-I can do an autopsy.. if it h-helps.." Even with the Monokuma File in their possession, nobody objects. Anything to get closer to finding the culprit and getting out of here alive, right?

Once again, it's silent. Nobody really knows what to say, it would seem.

"Inspect what you can," Gundham speaks up. His expression remains grim, but his crows are silent. They stare at the corpse with beady eyes, vague interest wafting off of them in waves. It is mildly worrying, regarding the species' diet.

Gonta trusts that Gundham has trained his crows to _refrain_ from doing that.

The Ultimate Nurse nods slowly, and, carefully, begins to look over the body. Her fingers shake on occasion, and she looks dangerously close to crying, but she doesn't falter. It takes moments, mere seconds, before she pulls away from her inspection and rises on shaky legs.

"T-there are lacerations on her thighs.." She utters, although she looks far from sick. As the Ultimate Nurse, she must've worked on things like this before, but this was someone _close_ to her, it would seem. How dreadful, to observe at the body of a loved one. "V-very deep ones, actually.. s-so she wouldn't be able to m-move at all."

Mikan stares for a moment longer before steeling her nerves. "T-there was also damage to her spine, b-but it was all to immobilize her.. it would've begun to repair itself otherwise. None of the external damage could've killed her, I-I think."

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Mikan's Autopsy**

**Mikan says that Ibuki was immobilized before she was pushed into the washing machine, hence ending her suffering. The lacerations on her thigh must've been caused by a sharp object, but a blunter object must've damaged her spine.**

* * *

Kaede looks over the body once more, whereas Pekoyama stares at the Monokuma File with great disdain. "The file said nothing about the wounds. Only the thing that ended it all; drowning." She looks quite miffed about it, but doesn't continue whatever rage-filled spouting that was culminating within her.

Instead, she hands the file to Gonta; why, he would never know; and turns away. "Pardon me. I'm going to interrogate the others." Mahiru steps to the side, but immediately trails after her, saying something along the lines of 'keeping Peko from killing anyone'. Even if the girl did succumb to those lowly heights, there would be no penalty.

Anyone could kill anyone _right_ now, and it wouldn't count. But nobody wanted to be subject to any form of distrust among their peers. That was just one step closer to death in Gonta's eyes.

( _Gonta, of all people, shouldn't be thinking about death._ )

( _This is for a multitude of reasons._ )

Kaede clears her throat. One of her hands hovers over Ibuki's corpse—she pulls it away mere moments after making her presence known again. She rises from her crouched position and looks over the remaining people within the locale, brows furrowed in thought. ".. I think Gonta and I can search this room pretty efficiently on our lonesome. We're better off splitting into groups to gather as much evidence as we can."

Kokichi—from _God knows where—_ bounds over and grins up at Kaede. His eyes are trained on Gonta, however, and gleam with mischief. "Hey, why don't _I_ help you two, too?" When Kaede doesn't say anything, he drops the excited front and puffs out his cheeks, looking rather irritable.

.. And punch-able. He looks very, _very_ easy to punch and something deep within Gonta tells him to hurt the person holding the investigation up. But he doesn't listen to the voice, and chooses to step away from the conversation for the time being.

Kaede can deal with Kokichi. Gonta cannot and _will not._

With everyone obliging to Kaede's request ( _or command, if you looked at it from a specific angle_ ), there were a lot more stones to turn over. Evidence was crucial to getting through class trials, if how Shuichi acted before all of this 'afterlife-killing-game' garbage meant anything. Because of the fact that he was the Ultimate Detective, he could sniff out clues like a hound.

Meanwhile, Gonta could see pretty well and could name every subspecies of a bee. He was completely and utterly useless when it came to things like this, but if it meant he'd have a chance of dying in a.. less execution-y way, then he would be fine.

He could keep everyone else alive.. even Kokichi, as much as he'd thought of strangling the male. Maybe he'd get around to doing that. Maybe he wouldn't.

( _It is almost sad how easily Gonta has succumbed to the idea of death. Almost._ )

( _Ibuki's demise helps with nothing. The knowledge that someone will die after the upcoming trial fails to help, either._ )

( _.. Gonta's thoughts are violent. It's still their first day here._ )

Gonta looks around the room, searching for anything that seems _off_. Not like he'd know what was and wasn't supposed to be in a clothing-cleaning area; Kirumi did all of the cleaning back then and, after her unfortunate execution, Shuichi and Angie offered to do it for him.

And then Shuichi did it. Then he didn't have to anymore.

Shaking off the thoughts—there are other things at stake, stop reminiscing and being a miserable slab of _sadness_ —the entomologist decides to advance towards one of the drying racks. He narrows his eyes in on a puddle forming beneath one area in particular. Everything else is dry, much unlike the slippery, tiled flooring.

"A girl's uniform..?" Gonta inspects the wet piece of clothing, but refuses to touch it. Even during times like this, he'd rather _not_ put his hands on someone else's clothing. Kaede could do that all she wanted when she got done with Kokichi.

Gonta's still somewhat of a gentleman, even when he's dealing with these delusional thoughts. It'd be rude to touch someone else's clothing without permission, regardless of the situation.

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Wet Women's Uniform**

**Among all of the other, dried uniforms, there's a wet uniform. It belongs to the female party, although nobody in particular still adorns said uniforms. Nobody who attended the meeting, anyways.. so who needed to wash their clothing during the murder?**

* * *

Gonta nearly slips when he takes a step away from the drying rack. The uncontrollable and, quite frankly annoying sound of laughter escapes Kokichi's mouth, and Gonta turns enough to see him having a _fit_ over.. something. Gonta isn't interested enough to look into it.

Maybe he's laughing at him. Maybe he's laughing at Kaede, or maybe even Mikan ( _as rude as that'd be, concerning the fact that she's grieving, Gonta wouldn't put that past Kokichi_ ).

He cringes at the feeling of wetness on his feet—it'd been there for a while, but he was beginning to assume it was _fermenting._ The mere thought of his feet soaking up whatever water they could find like some sort of sea sponge bothered him a great deal. The male attempts to shake some of it off.

Gonta's efforts are futile, like most things. He's not surprised anymore.

"Most of the floor is covered in water and.." Gonta sniffs, wrinkles his nose at the still-potent stench of a dead body, and turns his head elsewhere. "Soap. Someone must've tried to clean up a mess in here.. or maybe there was a struggle." He shrugs to himself, mind drawing a blank.

Gonta decides that the wet floor was something _everyone_ noticed. Noting it as a piece of evidence would be a bit too much, although he was pretty sure you couldn't leave any stone alone when it came to this game. It was almost like the blackened were serial killers before all of this or something.

( _Gonta wouldn't be all that frazzled by it. Not after all the stuff he's seen._ )

( _Not after all the stuff he's considered._)

Instead, he decides to get a little closer to the water, if only to see if he could find anything worth explaining in further depth. If he could manage to create words as exquisitely as the likes of Korekiyo, that is—which was, realistically, never going to happen.

After all, Gonta was an idiot.

_An idiot who could crush someone's skull and get away with it because of how 'trustworthy' he was._

Trust is such a frail thing, he reminds himself. His hands feel around, and he's not bothered by the faint smidgens of dirt that latch onto his palms. He's used to this. Dirt is familiar to his large hands and he's far more comfortable with the idea that he's outside again.

Leisurely, the entomologist drags his finger into an opening created by a cracked tile. Once his finger falls into said gap, he flinches and whips his head toward whatever happened to brush against his finger—there, curled up in a small ball to be discarded like trash, was a wad of mesh and stray hair strands.

( _That explains why there were two Ultimate Musicians—one of them killed the real one, and pretended to be her!_ )

(.. _Gonta thinks of Tsumugi. Then, in an instant, he thinks about her getting crushed by falling debris._ )

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Wad of Mesh and Hair Strands**

**The hair is dark, kinda like Ibuki's—but it could belong to _anyone_ with dark hair. There's a lot of mesh beside it, almost as if someone was trying to make something.**

* * *

Gonta rises from his place on the floor and wipes off his pants leggings again. The wetness doesn't come out, but at least he tried—he doesn't dare to wipe his palms on his clothing anymore, although his pants seem to be the prime subject to this inanimate torment.

Absentmindedly, he snaps his glove against his wrist again. It stings just as bad as the first time. Gonta is capable of enduring it, lest it come far more apparent over time. A single sting is better than a horde of them, he'd say that much.

He stops for a moment. The idea of being stung..

 _Oh_. Monokuma did this for a reason, and it was to remind him of how he was executed—once again, he finds himself dueling with the intrusive thoughts crafted by the bear's will to make his life horrible. God, that meant everyone else had something like this, right?

Before he can dwell any further on the thought, the doors to the laundry room creak open. Kirumi trots in, followed by an obviously shaken up Sayaka. Neither of them speak—one looks far too gone to do so, whereas the other is sullen.

The maid looks to Ibuki's body before instructing Sayaka to do _something_. Whatever she said makes the blue-haired idol turn towards Gonta, eyes dilated and clouded with fear, but not of him. She's scared of something else, perhaps the trauma induced by witnessing someone's death.

On unsteady legs, although she has _far_ more control than Mikan ( _who is currently being consoled by Kaede, who is ignoring Kokichi_ ), the pop sensation makes her way over toward Gonta. Her eyes peer up at him through slim eyelashes, pupils shivering and unfocused. She opens her mouth, only to close it immediately after and look back over toward Kirumi.

Kirumi only nods before apprehending Kokichi. Gonta hears him sputtering over his own words as she drags him out. He feels at peace, if only for a moment.

Then Sayaka finds her voice and that tranquility—that _one_ moment where his thoughts weren't snapping at his ankles, beckoning him to succumb to whatever they had planned for him—was gone. What a shame, but Gonta supposes that being selfish isn't the best course of action. He aches for the constantly fleeting relief nonetheless.

"Tojo-san told me to talk to you." Her voice trembles halfway into the sentence, but she doesn't stutter. Not once did the male think she recovered—after all, her eyes were flicking this way and that, purposely avoiding the area where the others were tending to Ibuki's corpse.

Her cold, dead corpse. Gonta thinks the smell of decaying flesh and soap do not go together. He is right on every level of the spectrum.

"A-and since Akamatsu-san is busy with Tsumiki-san.." Sayaka tenses slightly and gulps. "I guess she wants me to talk about.. the body." Her voice is hesitant, as if she _really_ doesn't want to discuss it, but Kirumi is a very convincing person.

( _'A maid must be able to convince her master out of doing treacherous things.' She once said, sweeping a broom across the floor of Gonta's lab. 'If she cannot do that, then she is nothing but a stray to them.'_ )

"I didn't hurt Ibuki, f-first off." Gonta doesn't know if he should take her word for it, but he nods and she bites her lip. Someone must've accused her or something—or maybe she was _really_ paranoid. It was hard to tell which factor was more prominent on her features. "But I heard loud clunking in the washing machine, and there was blood and.. I guessed _someone_ was in there.."

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Sayaka's Alibi**

**Sayaka claims to have not harmed Ibuki. However, she did mention that she heard clunking, saw blood and was under the belief that someone was in the washing machine. It is unknown as to whether or not she checked the machine before departing, although it is heavily implied that she did _something_ that counted as 'seeing the body'.**

* * *

Gonta stares at her for a long time. He then places a hand on her shoulder, smiling gently at her. As gently as someone who's thought about being murdered can, anyways.

"Gonta don't think Maizono-san did it." And, with those words, Sayaka relaxes fully and manages a small, hesitant smile. "Evidence that Gonta found _really_ goes against that."

While she _does_ go a little pale at the mention of evidence, she takes a step closer, causing Gonta to release her shoulder and go back to looking at the gap in the tiles. The mesh remains untouched, as does the stray piece of hair. Both items could belong to anyone, but they _must've_ been utilized when the culprit was crafting a disguise.

Gonta doesn't know anyone _sick_ enough to cosplay as the person they killed.

( _Someone's name pops up in his mind, but Gonta ignores it. He doesn't want to think about her again._ )

"You think the murderer.. took some of Ibuki's hair and walked around in it..?" Sayaka suggests softly, and Gonta ponders the possibility. It's _entirely_ possible, but how could someone kill the likes of Ibuki without anyone knowing beforehand?

"Maizono-san. A word, if you don't mind."

Kirumi's voice croons through the locale as she steps into the room again. Her hands hang limply at her sides, and her expression is stoic—void of all emotion, yet Gonta can see some sort of _anguish_ in her eyes. After all, she did promise to keep everyone safe.

Ibuki was a prime example of the falsehood in Kirumi's words; safety was _not_ possible, not in this killing game. Anyone would be driven to murder, no matter how low the stakes were. Some people were just horrible, yet nobody seems to _accept_ that.

Gonta tries to do a hard reset on his emotions, but it doesn't work. His thoughts are still running haywire.

Sayaka immediately straightens her posture and bows her head. Within a blink of an eye, she's exiting through the door with Kirumi, who looks back at him with that _look_ and shuts the doors behind her. Kaede looks over in his direction as a result, brow raised and lips slightly pursed—she's confused, but chooses to not comment on the event.

Instead of questioning him, she beckons him over—since Kokichi's gone, he walks over willingly, leaning down slightly to listen to what she has to say. However, she doesn't speak, but gestures toward a mop propped up against the wall. Gonta can't tell if it's still sopping wet or not, but there's a bucket by the side that's looking a little red.

"The culprit damaged Ibuki's thighs," she gestures toward the lacerations, "and had to clean up a mess. Since they were in here, though, they didn't have time to be diligent. I imagine that the procedure was rushed."

(.. _Gonta was right. Huh._ )

( _That also backs up Sayaka's alibi.. there was blood originally, but it got cleaned up. How fast is this person?_)

Gonta nods in agreement. Kaede makes a face and stares up at the intercom hanging above their heads, awaiting the announcement that'll tell them to approach the elevator doors. Wherever they are.

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Used Mop and Bloody Bucket Water**

**The blackened didn't have a lot of time to dispose of evidence, so they left behind the mop that was used to clean up the mess and the residue of said mess. Either that, or someone thought it'd be okay to clean up a murder scene, no questions asked..**

* * *

Mikan peers up at Gonta and, much like Sayaka, remains quiet. For a prolonged period of time, that is. She seems awfully hesitant to talk to him—like most people. Gonta reckons that his frame is intimidating, and the murder that just occurred is no help whatsoever.

"D-did you get anything?" She says finally, hands twiddling. Almost as if she's ready to get scolded for asking a question or something along those lines. He wants to reassure her, like a gentleman typically would, but he reckons that a gentleman wouldn't dodge a question like that. Especially when it was sincere and held no malice; at least, Gonta was pretty sure that Mikan lacked malice.

She seemed harmless, really. Her extensive knowledge on external and internal injuries was a bit much, though.

"Oh, yeah! Gonta found lots of things." He falters slightly, realizing that he shouldn't sound _that_ excited when a dead body lay inches away from his bare, wet feet. "But.. Gonta not know what they mean. He can learn, but.."

Mikan sniffles again, and Gonta thinks he did something wrong, but then she's smiling up at him shakily. "T-thank you for helping..! I-I'll repay you a-after the trial, I promise!"

( _.. Poor Tsumiki-san. She's really shaken up over this._ )

Before Gonta can refute her words, tell her that she doesn't need to repay him, the intercom crackles to life. Mikan nearly trips, but Kaede catches and steadies her before she can fall onto the wet floor. After all, the corpse is still laying there, dormant and absolutely _wretched_.

" _Tiiiimes up, my little cubs! Make your way to the elevator, or else I'll drag you there myself! You wouldn't want your ol' headmaster to drag ya, right?! Get off your asses and get going!_ " It ends with an unpleasant jingle.

"If the layout is the same as last time," Kaede begins—she's unfazed by the announcement, even though Mikan's shaking has started up again at the mere concept of being _dragged—"_ then I know where the elevator is." She smiles at the two before taking their hands, pulling them forward.

_(Ibuki's body is left in peace. Nobody prods at it. Nobody looks down at it with a saddened expression.)_

_(It lays there, brutalized and sapped of life. It's a sorry sight, but nobody has to look at it anymore. Not when it's been seared into their memories, adding onto preexisting trauma.)_

_(Monokuma deserves something beyond death._ )

Kaede wasn't lying. Within a minute or two, the trio had made their way toward the elevator. The likes of Kaito, Angie and Miu are already there—perhaps they'd split into their own group, although that much was unlikely due to how spacey they seemed. If they'd been in a group, Gonta was sure that they'd be conversing.

Then again, keeping a conversation _civil_ with Angie around was difficult. Miu's remarks and Kaito's anger issues ( _read: he's very emotionally driven_) only worsened that concept, and Gonta now understood why they weren't conversing.

Angie greets the three with a clap of her hands and a smile. It's ominous, the way she doesn't say anything, almost as if she's unaffected by the death of one of her peers. Gonta knows better, though, because he saw her praying for the lost musician quietly from her spot in the room. It was surprisingly touching coming from her.

Miu grins in their general direction, but begins to quiver when she's under Gonta's gaze for too long. "H-hey, quit lookin' at me like that.." And, in an attempt to respect her wishes, Gonta complies and looks elsewhere. Her hyena-like laugh follows the action, although Kaede engages her in a small conversation before she can make any further comments.

( _Gonta remembers killing her. He regrets even looking at Miu._)

Kaito, when Gonta's close enough, slaps a hand on the taller male's back. The latter doesn't even flinch at the hit. "You doing alright, Gonta? Looked pretty out of it during the investigation." Even if Gonta enjoys the concern, he can't find it in him to confide in Kaito. It's too much to ask.

So, instead of opening up ( _because Miu's right over there and he knows Angie is looking at him_), he smiles softly. "Gonta fine. Just.. tired." Kaito observes him closely for a moment, but relents all too easily and slaps Gonta's back again. Again, it doesn't nothing. It doesn't sting.

The glove's affects are stronger than Kaito. Interesting.

"Alright, man, whatever you say! You can always talk to me, y'know?" Gonta doesn't know, but pretends that he does. He doesn't know a lot of things. Everyone knows that he doesn't know a lot of things.

In their respective groups, people pile into the elevator, which is far more spacious than he remembered it being—after all, it fit all twenty four participants. It'd probably fit a dead body, too, but the entomologist doesn't dwell on that. Because, if he did, he'd start getting those depressing thoughts again.

Dealing with an emotional turmoil during a class trail wasn't exactly ideal.

So, with everyone on the elevator and the conversations ( _there weren't a lot—many people remained silent the entire time_ ) dying out, the doors to the elevator close and it begins to descend.

( _This.. this is the only way to move forward._ )

Gonta steels his nerves, furrowing his brow and drawing his lips into a tight line. The elevator rumbles, continuing downwards. Nobody looks away from the door, simply waiting for it to open so they can enter the locale they've been more than just familiar with their entire lives. After all, Monokuma was practically using them as pawns.

Pawns for entertainment, Gonta guessed. He hated it, but he had to play along. He didn't want to die because of Monokuma—he'd rather die on his _own_ terms, in _peace_. That sounded far more refreshing.

( _And since this is the only way.._)

The rumbling stops, as does the elevator. With a pitiful excuse of a chime, they slide open and reveal a monochrome-themed courtroom, highlighted with red accents. Otherwise, it matches Monokuma; black, white and a few shades of gray.

The words ' **CLASS TRIAL: IN SESSION** ' loom over them, each letter drifting around the podiums like sharks. Everything is high-tech, and Gonta thinks that _this_ is where the budget went. Holograms hover in front of each podium, marking each participant with a picture of their face. Each picture looks like one taken for high-school, or maybe even a mugshot.

The second option seems more fitting, given their situation.

Gonta glances down at his clothing, compares it to the locale ( _Monokuma wanted someone to look like it, apparently; sickening that it has to be Gonta_ ), then takes a step forward. Then another, and he repeats the process until he's standing before a giant circle of iron podiums. They're sleek and embedded into the ground, deeply rooted and accessorized. That _probably_ won't stop someone from uprooting them, if only they're given the chance.

Ibuki's picture is already settled somewhere, bubbles drawn crudely around her mouth. The frame, unlike all the others, is animated; she's _frothing_ bubbles, eyes rolling to the back of her head when it drizzles down her neck. It loops, over and over again, like someone took a video of it and kept hitting replay.

It's sickening. It's _disturbing, and Gonta hates everything about it._

The entomologist grits his teeth, and Kirumi is at his side—she pats his shoulder in passing, moving toward her podium with the upmost grace. Others file out of the elevator, some of them taking in their surroundings while others beeline toward their place in the circle.

Someone squeezes his shoulder. He reckons it was Kaede, because she shoots him a look of familiarity as she goes to stand between Rantaro and Tenko. Gonta inhales deeply before advancing forward, settling in at his podium.

Kiyotaka stands tall on his right, eyes trained forward ( _he's obviously ignoring the frothing Ibuki hologram_ ). Meanwhile, Rantaro is on his left, leaning on the podium with a troubled expression. Both are perturbed, as are _most_ of the other attendees of the trial. Some stand with bated breath, whereas others remain cool and callous.

Gonta doesn't dare talk to either of them, deciding to finish his thought before the trial begins.

( _Gonta will make sure Ibuki is avenged. That's a promise that he'll keep._ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter One: Compulsive Liar Syndrome - KILLING LIFE END**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 24**


	6. Compulsive Liar Syndrome (Class Trial)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the first trial begins (and ends).

**Truth Bullet - Monokuma File #1**

**A folder with the first murder case's details written in it.**

**'The victim is Ibuki Mioda. The time of death is estimated to be around two in the afternoon. The body was discovered by four people, the final beholders being Mondo and Gonta. Cause of death is identified to be from being drowned.'**

**\- - -**

**Truth Bullet - Fourth Body Discoverer / A Witness**

**Monokuma said that at least four people need to locate a body for the announcement to go off, which means that someone saw the body before Sayaka; _someone_ saw the murder take place. Who could've seen it without getting caught by the blackened..?**

**\- - -**

**Truth Bullet - Mikan's Autopsy**

**Mikan says that Ibuki was immobilized before she was pushed into the washing machine, hence ending her suffering. The lacerations on her thigh must've been caused by a sharp object, but a blunter object must've damaged her spine.**

**\- - -**

**Truth Bullet - Wet Women's Uniform**

**Among all of the other, dried uniforms, there's a wet uniform. It belongs to the female party, although nobody in particular still adorns said uniforms. Nobody who attended the meeting, anyways.. so who needed to wash their clothing during the murder?**

**\- - -**

**Truth Bullet - Wad of Mesh and Hair Strands**

**The hair is dark, kinda like Ibuki's—but it could belong to _anyone_ with dark hair. There's a lot of mesh beside it, almost as if someone was trying to make something.**

**\- - -**

**Truth Bullet - Sayaka's Alibi**

**Sayaka claims to have not harmed Ibuki. However, she did mention that she heard clunking, saw blood and was under the belief that someone was in the washing machine. It is unknown as to whether or not she checked the machine before departing, although it is heavily implied that she did _something_ that counted as 'seeing the body'.**

**\- - -**

**Truth Bullet - Used Mop and Bloody Bucket Water**

**The blackened didn't have a lot of time to dispose of evidence, so they left behind the mop that was used to clean up the mess and the residue of said mess. Either that, or someone thought it'd be okay to clean up a murder scene, no questions asked..**

_**\- - -** _

_**CLASS TRIAL, ALL RISE!** _

_**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 24** _

* * *

"Now that everyone's comfortable, let me explain the rules of the class trial!" Monokuma bellows from its throne, paws rubbing together as if awaiting a meal. There is no room for confrontation, not when the bear's already standing up and outstretching its arms again. Gonta hears someone let out an exasperated sigh, as if they've seen this far too many times.

Honestly, some people look a bit more worst for wear than others. They must've been strung along in the killing game for a longer time than him, or maybe they'd been manipulated or _betrayed_.

Manipulated, betrayed? Such interesting words to use when describing someone else. Someone other than _himself_.

( _The self-loathing won't stop. A pity, truly._ )

"As I'm sure you _all_ know—" Monokuma stops, stares at Rantaro, Leon and Sayaka, then clears its throat. " _Most_ of you all know, pardon my forgetfulness—you must debate amongst yourselves over 'whodunnit', and successfully pinpoint the blackened! If you choose correctly, I'll execute the bad apple and everyone else gets to live another day! Or a couple of hours, at most.."

Mikan whimpers. That was _definitely_ a jab at how fast Ibuki was killed. Why couldn't the blackened wait and rationalize the pros and cons of this..?

"However!" Monokuma's voice erupts suddenly, and several people flinch. Others remain still and quiet, although their split-second expressions betray them. "If you pick the wrong one, the bad apple will graduate and leave this place, while all of you good little cubs get _executed!_ With that out of the way, let's get this _super-high-powered-tech_ trial underway!"

Monokuma seemed like it was done talking, so Gonta opened his mouth to speak—however, it would seem like he was wrong, because the bear went slack against its throne and cleared its throat. He felt like glaring at the creature, but refrained, knowing that it wouldn't do anything.

"Before I forget," Monokuma gestures toward a clock hanging above the throne. "You're all being timed! Once that timer runs out, and certain people haven't voted; or maybe _nobody's_ made it to the voting phase, puhuhu!; you're as good as dead! Bang, right through the head, upupu!" The bear pretends to shoot itself with its nubby paw, dissolving into giggles soon afterward.

Nobody asks about the frothing Ibuki emote. They know better, especially when both Kiyotaka and Mikan are experiencing _mass_ guilt. Gonta feels bad for them, knowing that they couldn't do anything to prevent this, even if they had done something differently.

Ibuki would've died, no matter what, and they would have to go on without her. What a grim way of accepting this new reality, as surreal as it felt.

Kaede wrings her hands together on her podium, eyes intense and trained on the animated portrait. She looks unfazed, but anyone could see the sweat gathering on her temples—she was stressed and, quite frankly, afraid. Gonta knew why.

"Before we begin," Sakura begins, "does anyone have any suspicions?" She looks around the circle, listening for every little mutter someone says under their breath. Then, with the intensity of an encroaching stampede, Leon slams his hands on his podium ( _Monokuma hisses, 'hey, those are expensive!'_ ).

"I bet Sayaka did it!"

Oh, lord have _mercy_.

Angie's head whips over in Gonta's direction and she smiles. Gonta reminds himself to never mention any sort of 'lord' within his mind, because Atua seems to tell Angie _everything_. Perhaps she knows something about the investigation, but for now..

Sayaka looks absolutely baffled, eyes turning frantic as she takes a small step back. However, she immediately moves forward to grip her podium, staring at the fire-headed male with an incredulous gaze. " _What?!_ "

Kaede attempts to diffuse the situation. "Hey, maybe you should—"

Leon points toward Sayaka's shaken form, eyes blazing. He doesn't comprehend a single word that comes out of Kaede's mouth, either ignoring them or blinded by his listless accusation. "The announcement only went off after Oowada and Gokuhara went in there, right?! And the body wasn't even out of the wash, meaning that you couldn't have been a part of the four people!"

( _Gonta snaps his glove against his wrist again. The pain deafens some of the words, but the sting is gone all too soon._ )

( _Is this a coping mechanism, or is it his own personal torment? Both options feel the same._ )

Sakura bows her head in the pianist's direction. "I apologize for starting all of this." Her voice is nearly drowned out by Leon's yelling.

That's definitely one way to get a discussion going..

* * *

_ **NONSTOP DEBATE!** _

_**= > Monokuma File #1** _

_**= > Fourth Body Discoverer / A Witness** _

_**= > Mikan's Autopsy** _

_**= > Sayaka's Alibi** _

_**= > Wad of Mesh and Hair Strands** _

* * *

"We should be thinking about this rationally," Kiyotaka cuts in. His voice falters near the end, as he'd lifted his head and made eye-contact with the constantly rolling eyes of Ibuki's hologram. "Y-you can't be so sure about Sayaka killing Ibuki..!"

Leon practically snarls at the honors student, pounding a fist on the railing once more. Monokuma's words of protest echo feebly around the trial room. "I _am_ thinking about this rationally, dammit! Why the hell would it count her as a witness **if she didn't see the body?!** "

( _'That's.. a good point, actually.'_ )

Celeste leans on one hand. "Kuwata-kun has a point. Why _would_ Maizono-san be accessed as a witness if she didn't see it?" Her eyes flicker over toward the female in question. "Assuming you didn't open the washing machine, see the body then close it again, that is."

Sayaka trembles where she stands, looking left and right with a scared expression upon her features. She grips the railing tightly, brows knitted in worry as she begins to sweat. "I-I didn't kill Ibuki, I swear! I—"

Kokichi giggles to himself, arms behind his head. He sways this way and that, grinning widely. "C'mon, just confess already! You **don't have anything that goes against it, right?** You've got to be the murderer, nishishi!"

( _'What the fuck was that laugh?!'_ )

( _'It's like a disgruntled horse.._ _'_ )

_**"NO, THAT'S WRONG!"** _

_**= > Sayaka's Alibi** _

_**BREAK!** _

* * *

"Gonta don't think that." He speaks up, and several eyes lay upon him. Kokichi makes a face, whereas Leon looks about ready to tear into him. "Maizono-san has alibi."

"Eh? Where was this 'alibi' when she was accused?" Kirumi shushes Mondo, who grumbles something before calming down. Mukuro watches with a vacant gaze, judging everyone's reactions to specific things and seeing if she could butt in at any moment.

.. That's what her body language says, anyways. Gonta could be wrong.

He shakes off the thought, placing a hand on the podium and leaning forward. The hologram in front of him fizzles slightly at the closeness. "Maizono-san walked into the laundry room and saw blood. She also heard the clunking, and _assumed_ that there was a body. She didn't know for sure."

Gundham narrows his eyes. His crows scan the room every few seconds. ".. Then she didn't count toward the search party predicament, yes? Hence meaning that she has _no_ part in this event whatsoever?"

"Did none of you read the rules..?" Kiyotaka murmurs, but sighs and clears his throat. He must've regained his bearings over the animated hologram, because he manages to get through a sentence without sputtering.

"Let me relay _this_ one to you: 'if a student is to sight evidence toward a body and announce it, they are eligible to contribute to the primary announcement playing. It does not matter if they do not see the corpse.' Therefore, Sayaka's alibi is _100% valid!_ "

Leon goes silent. Sayaka turns to Kiyotaka, who's smiling to himself for being able to recite such a thing from memory. Is.. that something you should be proud of? Gonta doesn't know, but the tense atmosphere lightens up a bit.

Monokuma claps its little paws together. "Go, sassy little rule boy, go!"

( _Gonta hates it here._ )

Sayaka looks relieved, shoulders slumping as she gives Gonta an appreciative look; after all, he was the one who supplied the alibi in the first place. Leon, on the other hand, slouches and mutters something under his breath. It's clearly an insult, judging by the way Korekiyo leans away from him with a disgruntled look in their eyes.

Kaede sighs. "Sayaka isn't the killer, I'm quite sure of that." She scrolls through her hologram, seemingly observing its features and whatnot—the action prompts others do the same, although most of theirs are _far_ more barren in comparison to Gonta's and Kaede's. Evidence-wise, anyways.

"However, we should go over how the culprit managed to get 'Ibuki' to walk around while she was dead." Mikan whimpers and Kirumi rubs her back gently. At least _someone's_ comforting her, Gonta supposes, looking forward and furrowing his brow.

"I think I have some information on that," Nagito chimes. Mahiru rolls her eyes and Gundham looks significantly bothered by the sound of his voice, but the lucky student pays them no mind. "If Gokuhara-kun could be so kind as to affirm my evidence, that'd be _lovely_."

Kaito mutters something about Komaeda being a nutcase. Normally, Gonta would disagree, but the way he said 'lovely' is making it hard to do so.

* * *

_**NONSTOP DEBATE!** _

_**= > Monokuma File #1** _

_**= > Fourth Body Discoverer / A Witness** _

_**= > Mikan's Autopsy** _

_**= > Wet Women's Uniform** _

_**= > Wad of Mesh and Hair Strands** _

* * *

Chihiro bites their nails, taking a small step away from Nagito's podium. "S-should we really be listening to Komaeda-kun..?" They peer up at the male, who refuses to make eye-contact with them for one reason or another. His stance is strange, as is the look in his eyes.

"Oh, Ultimates like yourselves shouldn't have to be subjected to my rambling!" Nagito looks like he's about to _drool_ , which is rather offsetting given the circumstances. Just when Gonta thought this guy was relatively normal.. can't have anything in this killing game. "However, I think my information is important; _for the sake of hope_!"

Angie leans from one side to another, a passive expression on her features. There is an underlying concern in her smile. "Atua says Komaeda is insane! To listen to the ramblings of a madman is to await death with open arms!"

(' _No shit, sherlock!'_ )

Kaede breathes out a sigh, beginning to cradle her head in her palms. "Just.. say what you have to say, Komaeda-kun. It can't be _that_ bad.."

Nagito is all too eager to appease the female's words, perking right up and grinning wildly. A mouth shouldn't stretch that far, but Kokichi has done worse. Far, _far_ worse. "While I was searching with Korekiyo and Mukuro, I found some **wet footprints that led into one of the Ultimate's rooms!** "

( _'We aren't that close, Komaeda-kun; that's Shinguji-kun to you.'_)

( _'Should we really take his word for it?')_

Tenko narrows her eyes. "One of them? Just spit out their name, you degenerate! Quit being so vague!"

Kokichi looks down at his nails, occasionally peering up to see if anyone has resorted to physical violence. Surprisingly, he remains quiet, simply letting Nagito wreck his own format of havoc on the trial.

Mondo, on the other hand, does _not_ stay quiet. He points at Nagito; who's smiling with closed eyes, acting as if this is perfectly fine and someone didn't just _die_ mere moments ago. "Do you _think_ he remembers the name? If anything, **someone else from his group must know** ; especially if he's just gonna be ominous n' shit!"

Even though Gonta has no input on the situation, Kaede does; she opens her eyes at that very moment, honing in on Mondo within seconds.

_**V-CONSENT - "I AGREE WITH THAT!"** _

**BREAK!**

* * *

"You're absolutely correct, Oowada-kun!" Kaede exclaims. The male in question looks frazzled at first, but begins to preen when Kiyotaka announces his approval as well. "Someone else in the group should've noticed the footprints, too, especially if Komaeda-kun managed to see them!"

Korekiyo looks away. Mukuro hums, glancing over at the masked figure; there is something scary about how she looks at him.

Kaito narrows in on the two, soon making his impatience known. "Hey, c'mon! Spit it out already; do you know or did you not try hard enough to find clues?!"

Kokichi giggles. "Maybe it was one of _their_ rooms! That'd explain why they're being so quiet about it!"

It goes quiet. Nagito claps his hands together, applauding the grape-haired heathen. "Oh, looks like someone got my hint! It _was_ one of their rooms, but if I tell it'll just dull out your hopeful talents! Finding out for yourselves is far more hope-filling, don't you think?"

(.. _Why._ )

( _Why is he like this. Why did Gonta think he was normal._)

Fortunately, nobody questions his word usage. If anything, people are now pondering on whether or not they should take his word for it. After all, Nagito doesn't sound like.. the _best_ source material, if Gonta's being honest with himself.

Angie clasps her hands together over her head, closing her eyes and curling her lips upwards. A shadow overtakes the upper part of her face as she leans forward, bangs nearly cloaking her eyes as she grins in a passive-aggressive manner. "Atua says that Korekiyo is the murderer! Once a murderer, always a murderer, nyahaha!"

_Not this again.._

Korekiyo flinches, but regains their bearings and attempts to recompose themselves. "I-I haven't a clue what you're talking about. I have no interest in murdering anyone here, especially when I only wish to _observe their behavior_."

Angie's stare intensifies. The grin never slips off her face, gradually becoming more threatening with every passing second. " _Are you calling Atua a liar? Is that what you're doing, Korekiyo? His wrath will leave you scarred for an_ _eternity._"

"Guys! _Rationality!_ We can't afford to mess this up!" Kaede calls out, but her words bounce through the locale feebly. Angie ignores her and Korekiyo is too busy defending themselves to pay attention to much else. Mukuro watches everything go down with a blank gaze.

She's.. really uninterested in all of this, it would seem. Maybe she knows something.

But, for now, everyone has to deal with Angie's religion-driven accusations and Korekiyo's strangely panicked rebuttals. Gonta thinks it's nothing out of the ordinary, especially considering how they acted when they were accused in _his_ killing game.

* * *

_**NONSTOP DEBATE!** _

_**= > Monokuma File #1** _

_**= > Fourth Body Discoverer / A Witness** _

_**= > Mikan's Autopsy** _

_**= > Wet Women's Uniform** _

_**= > Wad of Mesh and Hair Strands** _

* * *

Angie's still swaying left and right, although the dark look in her eyes contradicts her movements. The hologram in front of her sizzles, soon displaying a mugshot of that _exact_ same expression. "Atua's divinity is _always_ correct! To call His words falsehood is blasphemy!"

( _'She's the Ultimate Artist, right?'_)

( _'Did her 'portrait' just change?!'_ )

Kirumi clutches the bridge of her nose. While she is the Ultimate Maid, and does her very best to cater to everyone's needs, she doesn't seem to have that patience when it comes to Angie's consistent rambling. Gonta doesn't blame her in the slightest.

Kiyotaka, hesitantly, looks over at the artist. "Ah.. What did this 'Atua' tell you, exactly?" He chooses to indulge her, which is probably the best course of action in this scenario.

( _'Should you really be indulging her..?_ _'_ )

Angie then raises a finger, still smiling vibrantly. Her expression isn't trustworthy. "He tells me that Korekiyo **killed Ibuki and shoved her into the washing machine right after!** "

_**"NO, THAT'S WRONG!"** _

_**= > Monokuma File #1** _

_ **BREAK!** _

* * *

"Atua is wrong," Gonta interjects.

Angie stops, eyes widening. She then turns to Gonta, and he feels pinned to the spot by her cold gaze. She's still smiling, of course, but those _eyes._ They were dangerous and lacked the usual playful mirth that he was used to.

"Don't tell me; you're going against His divinity, too?" Her head tilts like an owl's, eyes wide and searching. It's uncomfortable, the way she looks right through him. Almost as if there's a hole in him, one that's _gaping_ and large and shows _every_ _little_ _piece_ of his insides. "Atua _doesn't_ tolerate slander such as this, Gonta. You _know_ that, correct?"

Kirumi places a hand on her podium, hologram hissing at the close proximity. "Yonaga-san, that is _enough_. Korekiyo is a suspect, _at the very least_ , but allow Gokuhara-kun to make his claim."

Angie goes quiet. She doesn't stop staring at Gonta, and her smiles falters slightly. Her gaze does not waver; if anything, it only intensifies the longer he looks at her.

( _She's gonna be a problem in the upcoming trials, it would seem.._ )

Gonta, now knowing how the holographic screen in front of his podium works, hovers his hand over it. After less than two swipes, the evidence he wanted to bring up is projected on the screen; the Monokuma File, in all of its unearned glory. The words are a startling red, a stark contrast to the faded blues that make up the holograms.

"The file says nothing about dying from external wounds." Kaede speaks, and Gonta is grateful for her assistance. "While she does have a bunch of marks on her; the external ones that Mikan found; the cause of death was _drowning._ She was alive when she was pushed into the washing machine, if only barely."

"Not only that," Mikan squeaks. "B-but.. there was a wet _women's_ uniform on the drying rack.. so someone had to be able to fit into I-Ibuki's clothes. Th-they left their old clothes on the rack.."

Chihiro perks up, although they're a bit teary eyed. Had they been there the entire time? Gonta couldn't quite recall; too much was going on. "Then that means the murderer was a female! B-but, even then, Mukuro could've been framed, so we can't be completely sure!"

Nagito only smiles, gripping his arms. A clover crinkles beneath his grasp. "What a _hopeful_ display of problem-solving.."

Angie makes a small noise of consideration. Her eyes turn away from Gonta's form, and he can breathe again.

Celeste hums. "I have an accusation."

Everyone turns to her, and the fancily dressed female smiles. She then turns to Mukuro, who's been silent ( _like a few others_ ) the entire time; she leans forward and her eyes remain lidded, hosting the same dangerous glint that Angie's once did.

"I believe that Ikusaba-san did it." Mukuro flinches slightly at the mention of her last name, but her eyes widen a fraction when she realizes she's being accused. "After all, I don't think that any of the evidence points toward someone as lanky as Korekiyo. Not when 'Ibuki' was walking around, telling people to meet up in the dining hall moments before her body was found."

She smiles passively. "Isn't that right, Mukuro?"

_**"MIND OVER STRENGTH!"** _

_ **BREAK!** _

* * *

Tenko bares her teeth a bit, although she seems reasonably subdued due to the fact that Celeste was the one talking—after all, the latter was a woman, and not a 'degenerate male'. Regardless, Gonta had no idea why she was interjecting at this moment in time. He could only guess.

"Accusing another girl like that.. and for what?! Because the evidence doesn't look like it points toward the degenerate?!" Korekiyo slowly shakes their head, tutting under their breath. Gonta knows they murdered people in the past, in the _fabrication_ they played their respective parts in, but they didn't deserve this. Not when there was nothing malicious coming from them.

At the moment, anyways. Nobody knows what the person next to them is capable of. They can only guess.

"Ah, we should be staying reasonable here.." He hears Kaede mutter, but it's overthrown by Celeste straightening up and eyeing Tenko closely. She observes with a calm, collected gaze. The pianist sighs, looking to Kirumi for help—the maid does nothing.

There is a furnace in her eyes, however. Gonta knows better than to prompt someone like that. He also knows that he _doesn't_ want to step into a conflict with someone who despises men. Tenko would gladly walk over and attempt to physically detain him if she sees fit.

It won't work, he knows that, but she'll definitely try. That's the part that makes him stay silent.

"You're driven by your lack of care for a specific gender." Celeste rebuts. Tenko's glare hardens. " _I_ am driven by rationality, reasoning. I am accusing Mukuro for this murder, and you can't do anything about it."

Angie perks right back up again, as if Kirumi hadn't told her to stop endorsing conflict with her spiritual beliefs. However, she simply endorses the conflict _without_ said beliefs; it's still bad. "Fight, Tenko! Fight, fight, fight!"

Gonta knows he can't do anything to stop this. So, with a newfound crease in his brow, he lets the two of them duke it out. Verbally, of course, because he doesn't think Monokuma would let him demolish its 'amazing trial room'.

"At least we're getting somewhere.." Kirumi mutters, not noticing how Mikan's shaking has worsened _significantly_ over the past few minutes. It's only a matter of time.

* * *

_ **REBUTTAL SHOWDOWN!** _

╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗

_**TENKO CHABASHIRA VS. CELESTE LUDENBERG** _

╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝

_**START!** _

* * *

"Mukuro couldn't have done it!" Tenko bellows, voice sure and strong; much like her stance, which has turned defensive. Go figure.

"If anything, the evidence points toward Korekiyo the most! They had some deranged tulpa of their _dead sister!_ They had makeup on and everything—that just proves that they could pretend to be Ibuki more than anything! I've never even _seen_ Mukuro touch makeup!"

Celeste crosses her arms, eyes narrowing. Monokuma manifests a bucket of popcorn, throwing the item into its face; none of it goes into its mouth, and it all falls onto the ground. Kirumi twitches, but settles on clenching her fist and watching the showdown take place.

It really _did_ feel like a showdown, just going off of how the two were acting toward one another. Someone should diffuse this fast, especially since Celeste doesn't seem like the type of person to let someone down _easy_.

_ **ADVANCE!** _

Celeste wastes no time, placing a hand on her forehead and cradling it. "I'm beginning to nurse a headache from your fruitless rambling." She insults, and Tenko flinches.

_Ouch._

She then places her hand on her podium, hologram flickering and fizzling before a piece of evidence appears on the screen—evidence that neither Gonta or Kaede had on their person, given their location in the laundry room. It displays a picture of a heavily dismantled wig, one that's tinted with blues and pinks.

Mikan's shaking increases. Kirumi takes notice this time, and she begins to coddle the anxious girl. It's all she _can_ do.

Celeste smiles. She pays no mind to the near-crying Mikan, nor does she pay any mind to Tenko's bewilderment. "While I was on my own expedition, I stumbled upon _this_. A wig that was crafted with the intention of being worn, of tricking others into believing someone is _a different person_. It is incapable of holding all of Korekiyo's hair."

"This wig could only belong to Mukuro; the _true_ blackened of the case."

Mukuro flinches and Tenko falters slightly. She then points an accusatory finger toward the other female, who harnesses a smug aura. Rightfully so, after displaying evidence like that, but it's more than just a little inconsiderate. "H-how do we know that _you're_ not the culprit, huh?! You could be trying to trick us into believing that Mukuro did it so you can get out with the hide on your back!"

Nagito glances over at Tenko, a docile look on his face. Celeste's smile widens a bit. They know what they're doing.

"Nagito's evidence was _not_ a lie. It is between Korekiyo and Mukuro, neither of them were framed—and my _evidence_ points toward Mukuro."

_ **BREAK!** _

* * *

Mukuro remains silent, eyes staring vacantly into the void. Tenko urges her to say something, _anything_ , but it's all futile. It really does look like Mukuro's the one responsible for all of this, even if a lot of the other points weren't accessed—seems like not _every_ piece of evidence would be used, Gonta thought. Overthinking was a common trait in this trying time.

Regardless, he couldn't quite believe this was all over. Not when there were _other_ points to access.

Kiyotaka crosses his arms. "As futile as it seems now, we _could've_ gone over alibis and gotten to this point far faster." Mondo nods in agreement, although a part of Gonta thinks that he's biased in doing so. "I know everyone who was in the dining hall when Sayaka informed us of the body—therefore, I can tell you this; Celeste is _completely correct in her reasoning!_ "

Mukuro clenches her fists, but says nothing. Tenko glares at Kiyotaka, but the glare she gets back is just as powerful.

( _A man hater and a rule lover.. never would've imagined the two of them having beef with one another, but this situation was rather uncanny.._ )

"Ah, then I'm ready to vote!" Angie chirps, voice serene and docile—far different from the accusatory voice she used against Korekiyo and Gonta. "Monokuma—!"

And, in that moment, something explodes. Something that was once soft grows hard, gratingly so, and Gonta is thrown off course by the power of that _something._

"I-I can't take this anymore! This— _this_ isn't enough!" Mikan erupts at that very second, eyes crazed and arms trembling as if she was _freezing_ to death. The portrait of a frothing Ibuki is only a few feet away from her, and she clutches her hair and _screams_. Kirumi can't calm her down, not now, not when she's entered an entirely new stage of _panic._

"Who saw the murderer, who's been quiet this _entire time_ about the murderer?!" Her eyes dart from one person to another, soon deciding to flicker between three people in particular. "IT WAS ONE OF YOU! One of you, _one of you— **one of you have been lying to us, all of us, to** **ME** **!** "_

Kaede looks to Mikan, a pitied look on her face. She opens her mouth to speak, but shuts it—there's no use in trying to calm her. She's demanding to know the truth, and most definitely won't let the trial end until she _gets what she wants._

Regardless, Tenko—of all people—attempts to calm her. "H-hey, calm down a bit—!"

Mikan's fists whiten at that, and it was _definitely_ not wise to speak to her in such a tone. Coddling her would do nothing now, not when she was frenzied and ready to _tear into someone_ if they refused her demands. "Calm down? _Calm down? **I WON'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!** " _She looks to her chosen culprits and screams again.

" _ **I'M DONE! I'M DONE WITH YOUR LIES!! TELL THE TRUTH, THE WHOLE TRUTH—WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING?! WHY DID YOU LET IBUKI DIE?!?**_ _"_

* * *

_**MASS PANIC DEBATE!** _

╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗

**_ KOREKIYO SHINGUJI VS. KOKICHI OUMA VS. KIRUMI TOJO _ **

╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝

**= > Fourth Body Discoverer / A Witness**

**_ START! _ **

* * *

Korekiyo, baffled, shakes their head slowly. They've regained that calmness that was so natural to them, even if Gonta _knows_ that they're still significantly shaken up over everything. "We've already found out the culprit—let us end this before the timer runs dry."

Kokichi looks genuinely surprised at the accusation, but Gonta knows it's all just a front. "M-me? You think _I_ saw the murder?" He grins a bit, hovering a finger over his lips. " _It's because I'm a compulsive little liar, right?_ "

Kirumi furrows her brow, confused as to why Mikan would accuse her of such a thing. "I would've stepped it and apprehended the blackened. I have no issue in getting my hands dirty."

The anthropologist glances over at Tenko, who's still taking in the fact that Mikan—sweet, quiet and petite little Mikan—had screamed bloody murder and pulled up a point that people had _somehow_ forgotten. Gonta blames the petty arguments. "After all, I don't see why I'd watch such a thing. It is completely out of my field and, therefore, irrelevant to me."

"I mean, I don't blame you for accusing me." Kokichi's grin only widens, and he uses his strangely-shaped bangs to cast a shadow over his face. He takes on a menacing expression, eyes rolling up to stare _daggers_ into Mikan's being. " _But just because I'm a liar?_ Wow, that's real cold! I could cry, right here, right now!"

Kirumi takes on a thoughtful expression, eyes looking downward as she ponders the accusation thrown at her. "I truly haven't a clue as to why you'd accuse me, Mikan. I promised to keep everyone here safe—sitting idle and watching someone die.. I would never forgive myself for that."

Pekoyama squints at Korekiyo, making a face at their words. ".. You study human behavior. Killing is _human behavior_." She points out, adjusting her steadily slouching glasses. "You would _definitely_ get something out of watching Ibuki get murdered _._ "

Gundham scoffs, glaring at Kokichi. The latter looks like he's readying himself to cry, making it painfully obvious that it's going to be exaggerated and, henceforth, an obvious lie. "Your acts of trickery are mediocre, especially for one of your persistence. Perhaps try to entertain these mortals when you've gained the title of 'Ultimate Liar', hm?"

Mikan nearly rips out her hair, turning to look at Kirumi. She's not in the right head-space to consider the consequences of anything, and whimpers all too loudly. " **ANY OF YOU COULD'VE WATCHED HER GET KILLED!** _I can't trust you, I can't! Tell me the truth; **I WANT THE TRUTH!**"_

Korekiyo flinches at Pekoyama's statement. " **T-there's nothing that would pin me as an observer to _that_!**"

Kokichi immediately begins to sob, tears gushing out like waterfalls. "You're so mean to me! **I'd never watch someone die like that, and that's the _truth_!**"

Kirumi frowns, hanging her head a bit. She doesn't even try to reason with Mikan. "I assure you; **watching someone get murdered is the _last_ thing I want to do.**"

_**V-COUNTER - "I HEAR IT!"** _

_**= > Fourth Body Discoverer / A Witness** _

_**BREAK!** _

* * *

".. _You_ saw the murderer, Shinguji-kun. You lied." Gonta deadpans. Everything stops—the strangely funky music Monokuma kept blaring through speakers hoisted in the room's corners came to an abrupt halt. The overlapping voices all came to a halt, too, and all eyes landed on the looming entomologist.

Korekiyo blinks. They say nothing, staring at Gonta with an unreadable expression. Their stance is rigid, eyes slowly turning to Mikan. She is still.

Kokichi grins wider than before, leaning on his podium and batting his eyes up at Gonta. It's mildly disturbing, regarding their distance and Gonta's disliking for the smaller male. He repels all thoughts of throttling Kokichi then and there. "Oh? When did you come to _that_ conclusion, huh? You're not a _detective_ , y'know!"

( _Don't indulge him. It's not worth it. It's never worth it._)

Mikan's head finally turns to Korekiyo. Her chest heaves up and down with effort—she'd been _screaming_ this entire time, voice never having a moment to relax and return to that soft, bumbling state. Her lungs must be aching. "You, _you_! Why?! Why did you let her die?! _Why did you watch Ibuki die?!?_ "

"Mikan.." Mahiru murmurs, having remained silent all this time.

Korekiyo hangs their head. Gonta knows he was right, and takes a step toward his podium. Mikan is deranged, driven by emotion, but remains at her podium. Kirumi seems to be apprehending her appropriately; no touching, just a heavy gaze that weighs her down.

Almost as if Monokuma arranged this _specifically_ because it knew something like this would happen. Gonta could appreciate that, as much as he wanted to pummel the stupid thing. It meant nobody was endangering the _innocents._

( _The blackened was always in danger. They always died._)

"Can we vote now?" Miu blurts out, leaning on her podium. Her arms prop up her chest, causing several people to look away from her out of common decency. She doesn't seem to care, a brow risen to emphasize her question. "I'm sorry for your loss n' shit, but we've got things to do! That piece of shit on its little fucking throne is _timing us!_ "

Leon scratches the back of his neck, glancing over at Mikan. She is, as expected, completely and totally out of it. She doesn't even register Miu's words, although that's _fortunate._ You don't just say that to someone who's grieving. "We know the culprit, right? Mukuro did it, so let's all just vote for her."

Mukuro clenches her fists, rising up to glare at Celeste. The gambler only blinks, soon turning to dust off her dress and smile. There is no remorse in her smile; she feels no pity, appearing _glad_ to get someone voted out.

Even if he's suspicious, Celeste is completely and totally right. While Korekiyo was a witness who, strangely enough, said nothing about observing the murder, Mukuro was the one who took the motive and went with it.. even with the threat of being caught by someone, as there was _twenty five of them._

Was. Pretty soon, there will be twenty _three_.

Mikan's tired out from the screaming, but she's still irate. She's taken to sniffling again, wiping at her eyes. "Y-you didn't say anything.. _you didn't do anything.._"

Monokuma giggles, throwing the last of its popcorn at its face and letting it fall onto the ground. It rolls over toward the podiums and Kirumi nearly jumps away from her stand to clean it up. Instead, she takes to rubbing Mikan's back, as she's dissolved into silent crying with the occasional hiccup.

"That was one hell of a class trial! It's only the first day, too, so I applaud you for bringing your _beautiful_ fervor!" It hops up into a standing position, nubby paws hidden behind its back. It was surprisingly to see that Monokuma hadn't interfered at all, but Gonta was counting his blessings.

( _Angie's staring at him again._ )

"As a token of gratitude toward the _wonderful_ ratings, take this as some solace!" And then a picture of Mukuro was on the giant screen looming above them, showcasing her entire profile. "Mukuro Ikusaba is the **Ultimate Soldier!** Why, even if Kirumi tried to apprehend her, she'd get killed in the process, too! Oh, that'd be _such_ a wonderful plot twist, don't you think?!"

"Is that why she didn't tell us her Ultimate..?" Chihiro utters. "Because she planned this from the start?"

Mondo shakes his head, head hanging low. "I get why you didn't say anything, dude.."

"I was threatened," Korekiyo murmurs. "She threatened me and I couldn't do anything about it. I.. I'm _terribly_ sorry, Tsumiki-san."

Mikan hiccups, spurting out jumbled apologies and gripping onto the maid's dress; her fists are white, lacking the blood needed to continue operating _normally_. Regardless, her grip remains strong, especially for someone of her figure.

Kirumi frowns, turning to look at Mukuro's shadowed face. Neither of them say anything, but their expressions say it all. She then returns to carding her fingers through Mikan's hair, gently shushing her babbling and sobbing.

Kaede sighs, exhausted. "There's.. no point in having a closing argument. Just let us vote, Monokuma."

"Oh? Alrighty then!" Monokuma pats its belly. Gonta knows what happens after this, and he utterly despises his knowledge on this killing game. It's become far too normal to be healthy. "Everyone, take your votes! Let's get this execution _going_ , upupupu!"

The hologram fizzles; _everyone's_ holograms fizzle; and it cuts to several pixel icons displayed on a screen. With ease, he notices that _none_ of them are normal. He sights his bloated pixel face near the top of the list, and he feels the blood drain from his face at the memory.

( _Gonta snaps his glove against his wrist. It stings worse than before, but he stops looking. That's all that matters._ )

With a small sigh, he hovers his finger above Mukuro's icon; the one with spears embedded into an entity with pink ponytails. A part of his guesses that _that's_ why Celeste knew the wig belonged to her. Another part of him thinks differently, but there's no more thinking to be done. He taps it and the icon glows.

The screen cuts to what appears to be a lottery machine. However, instead of symbols of wealth or numbers, there are their icons, in all of their glory. Strangely enough, it begins with a bucket of butter. Not many people seem to understand the icon, but whoever does.. well, they wince loudly, making it was difficult to miss.

( _Gonta has to squint to see the word 'Mondo' on it. He hates it even more._ )

An off-screen force pulls the lever and, as quickly as the icons filter through one another, it lands on the blackened; Mukuro Ikusaba. The SFX sound of children cheering and applauding somehow worsens the experience.

* * *

**GONTA GOKUHARA - 0**

**KIYOTAKA ISHIMARU - 0**

**MONDO OOWADA - 0**

**TANAKA GUNDHAM - 0**

**MIU IRUMA - 0**

**KOKICHI OUMA - 0**

**CHIHIRO FUJISAKI - 0**

**NEKOMARU NIDAI - 0**

**RANTARO AMAMI - 0**

~~**IBUKI MIODA** ~~ **\- 0**

**CELESTIA LUDENBERG - 0**

**KIRUMI TOJO - 0**

**NAGITO KOMAEDA - 0**

**KAITO MOMOTA - 0**

**ANGIE YONAGA - 0**

**MAHIRU KOIZUMI - 0**

**MIKAN TSUMIKI - 0**

**MUKURO IKUSABA - 24 [ WINNER ]**

**PEKO PEKOYAMA - 0**

**SAKURA OGAMI - 0**

**TENKO CHABASHIRA - 0**

**SAYAKA MAIZONO - 0**

**LEON KUWATA - 0**

**KAEDE AKAMATSU - 0**

**KOREKIYO SHINGUJI - 0**

**_CLASS TRIAL, ALL RISE!_ **

* * *

"Good job, my darling little cubs!" Monokuma claps its paws together, revealing that _everyone_ —included the blackened in question—voted for the same person. "You're all real smart cookies, even if you _died_ in your respective killing games, upupupu! What a shame, what a shame, but that's enough of the pity party."

Tenko lowers her head, gripping her podium. "I'm so sorry, Mukuro.."

Gonta doesn't know when they made a connection, but assumes it was during the time where everyone separated. After all, Tenko didn't get defensive over people randomly. It was like Himiko—

Ah. Mukuro reminds Tenko of Himiko. They both have that sense of nonchalance about them.

That's.. that's actually really depressing.

"I've prepared a _very_ special punishment for **Mukuro Ikusaba** , the **Ultimate Soldier!** " Monokuma announces, uncaring for Tenko's sadness. Everyone expects this; but, even then, it still hurts to know that two people are getting killed. They weren't even given the courtesy of having a _day_ to pretend they'd be okay.

Mukuro doesn't reply to Tenko's apologies. She only looks at her hologram, eyes lost. She _knows_ that she's going to die. Perhaps she's coming to terms with it.

Or, more likely, she's experiencing an internal turmoil. Whichever sounds fancier to undergo, one would suppose, albeit both options are terrible and undesirable.

"Let's give it everything we've got! It's.. _**PUNISHMENT TIME!** "_

".. Sorry about all of this," Mukuro finally speaks. "I.. really am selfish."

And those are her last words, for she's already getting dragged to her demise. Gonta wonders how the collar doesn't snap her neck. He wonders, but he doesn't ask.

( _Mikan cries, but not for her. She cries for someone else. Ibuki didn't deserve to die._ )

* * *

_ **GAME OVER** _

_ **MUKURO IKUSABA HAS BEEN FOUND GUILTY.** _

_ **TIME FOR THE PUNISHMENT!**_

* * *

╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗

 _ **< EXECUTION: Fatal ** _ **_ Interrogation >_**

**_ < EXECUTED: MUKURO IKUSABA > _ **

╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝

* * *

The screen goes black for a moment, and everyone hopes it never comes back on. Nobody wants to see what happens to Mukuro in her execution. Not after they'd experienced their own deaths, some worse than others. Nobody here wants this. _Absolutely nobody._

However, they have no free will when it comes to these things. Not anymore.

Then, much to their misfortune, the screen flickers back to life. On it was a scene different from what any of them had seen before—Mukuro was restrained to a chair, hands and legs bound as to prevent her escape. Judging by how hard she was attempting to pull them apart, she hadn't accepted the fact that she would die.

Mukuro killed Ibuki with the intent of getting out alive. Yet, she still has the _nerve_ to apologize for acting on her selfish, freedom-driven desires. She put everyone else in danger; she _killed someone, for crying out loud_ ; and thinks an apology will fix it.

It won't. She probably knows that. Maybe she was apologizing to Tenko, who watches the screen with bated breath and scared eyes. Almost as if that's Himiko up there, ready to get executed in a fashion that is far from humane.

Perhaps. Gonta doesn't feel good about this, but he doesn't feel bad, either. He's just.. there. He can't explain the feeling, as the feeling cannot be explained. There is a pit where his sympathy used to be.

After all, she'd given him a ponytail holder and told him where his room was. That's all she ever did. There was no connection, no feeling.

( _Gonta is becoming someone else. He doesn't know if he likes that or not._ )

Mukuro's tugging and pulling is, of course, futile. However, Gonta swears he can hear the occasional creak—be it from the constantly swaying chair or the encroaching, hanging pieces of machinery closing in on her.

He would take a gamble on it being the machinery. It's loud and clunky, wires peeling off of the poles that each weapon is attached to. Every single one of these 'weapons' are the same; a gun.

Mukuro is tied to a chair with _several_ guns closing in on her. Gonta notices a piece of machinery that's near the trigger, waiting to pull it. Someone—not Tenko, it can't be Tenko—cries out from behind the entomologist and proceeds to experience a breakdown. Several people move to help them, whoever they are, because they're probably looking for an excuse to ignore this.

The raven-haired woman looks panicked, for the first time in Gonta's _short time_ in knowing her. That indifferent expression has morphed into one of pure, genuine and feral fear, and her movements only emphasize that sense of urgency. She wants to get out, she _needs to get out._

But this is an execution. She can't get out. Nobody ever gets out.

Soon, every single one of the guns are pressed against her head; surrounding her like sharks, like the letters dancing above the podiums in an all-too-entertaining way. Tenko rips her eyes away from the sight, burying her face into her hands as she curses at Monokuma. The bear doesn't care. The bear never cares.

Angie places her hands together in prayer. She's not praying for Mukuro to escape, most definitely, because the metal looming over the triggers of every gun twitch backwards. Gonta can hear the guns cocking, prolonging a death in the most cruel way possible.

He can see that she's crying. Silently, because no sound escapes her mouth; tears pour down her face and she stops struggling, arms and legs going slack. Someone yells for her to keep fighting, to keep _trying—_

The triggers are pulled, and her head _explodes_ in a balloon of crimson. Gore plummets from her face, oozing down her decimated upper half to make itself at home on the remainder of her lower jaw. Soon, that, too, falls apart, and lands on the ground with a deafening crack.

It breaks on the ground. He can see _pieces_ of it scatter in the background.

Her head is gone. Blood is everywhere, coating the guns and a lot of it managed to smudge the screen. It drips, slowly, gradually, and Gonta can't look away. Even when he hears someone vomit, even when he hears someone begin to _scream._

That image was never going to leave his mind.

Monokuma cheers, but its voice is muted—Gonta stops listening to everything around him, only beginning to move when he notices Kirumi guiding Mikan to the elevator. Chihiro's crying, latched onto Mondo's side whilst Kiyotaka is being guided by the taller male as well. Sakura and Nekomaru are disturbed at best, but do not cry; they keep their emotions in check, even when they want to scream and sob with everyone else.

Tenko has to be dragged away from the trial grounds. Kokichi, as horrid as he is, stares off into the distance with dilated pupils. Gonta _thinks_ that he's crying. He doesn't look at him long enough to confirm that thought. Angie's hands are clasped together in prayer. Her grip is tight.

Sayaka wipes her mouth off, trembling. She was the one who vomited. Celeste looks away from the trial room, acting as if it never existed. Gundham stares at his boots and Miu grips her shoulders. Mahiru's trying to keep it together. Leon looks off into the void, traumatized.

( _Again. Traumatized again._)

Kaede rubs his shoulder the entire elevator ride. Rantaro smiles sullenly at him. Kaito pats him on the back when the doors open. Korekiyo returns to their room with haste, saying something about how they all need to sleep this off. Everyone agrees, including Nagito—he looks fine, but Gonta takes note of his slightly frantic expression. He's disturbed, too, but doesn't make it known.

Gonta enters his room, locks the door behind him and collapses on his bed. Every time he closes his eyes for too long, he sees lifeless ones staring back at him—or, even worse, he sees Mukuro's pleading, terrified expression when she's mere moments from having her head blown up.

Sometimes, he sees Mukuro's decapitated and bloodied form, guns oozing gore and a slackening jaw falling from its place. It breaks with deafening crack that startles him awake.

' _I.. really am selfish._ ' Says the corpse.

Gonta doesn't get much sleep that afternoon.

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter One: Compulsive Liar Syndrome - END**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 23**

_****｡･ﾟﾟ･**** ( **Gonta has obtained a present:** **TOY GUN** **.** ) ** **｡･ﾟﾟ･****_


	7. The Nightly Transgressions Of An Overlord (Intermission)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone catches a break (temporarily).

_"Mm, ahem, this is a school announcement. It is now 10 p.m. As such, it is officially **nighttime**. Soon the doors to the dining hall will be locked, and entry at that point is strictly prohibited. Okay then.. sweet dreams, everyone! Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite..."_

* * *

Gonta was very sure that he didn't get a wink of sleep. According to that presumably prerecorded announcement, he was right.

The visions were cementing themselves into his brain, all too patient and gradual with the process. Ibuki's dead eyes stared back into his and Mukuro's dismantled face dripped gallons of blood; blood that had rushed to her face when she began to cry, nose wrinkling whenever she choked on a breath. Both of them looked oh-so _panicked_ and _hurt_ and it was all because Gonta thought _someone_ could be a leader.

He has learned nothing. _Absolutely_ _nothing_.

Even if Kirumi ended up as the leader, she'd just end up like Rantaro. He didn't want her to succumb to that fate; she didn't deserve to die after her first execution.

( _Who knows what Monokuma would pull with these dead bodies?_)

Gonta didn't know these people. He never got to talk to Ibuki. Mukuro tied up his hair, told him how to find the rooms and tricked him with her dress-up skills.

That meant nothing. _None of this_ meant anything, because he'd never forget their expressions. Ibuki must've screamed for help, she must've thrashed about and tried to get away from Mukuro.

Her efforts were in vain. Ibuki didn't know that, however, so she must've _tried._ But Mukuro was the Ultimate Solider, and Ibuki was the Ultimate Musician. She didn't have a chance to fight back _properly_ when her attacker was Mukuro.

That's how she got stabbed in the thigh, then had her spine broken in with _something_ ( _even now, the murder weapons were unknown—top-tier investigation work_ ). Finally, in her dying moments, she was _drowned_ and was gone; just like that, as if it was the easiest thing to do. Her body most likely has been discarded by now, as per Monokuma's typical behavior regarding said topic.

It never liked leaving bodies around. 'Unsanitary,' it said a long time ago, although Gonta could find multiple faults in _that_ argument.

His eyes move over to his nightstand. His glasses are propped up on their case, and will probably need to be wiped off with a cloth ( _if he can find one, that is_ ). The lights in his room are off, shrouding him in a darkness that he's become far too comfortable with.

Gonta closes his eyes and a corpse—bloody and mutilated beyond recognition—stares back at him. He awakens with haste, breaking out into a cold sweat. Two people died.

There was one victim and one blackened. It really felt like two victims, and, in a way, that's exactly what it was. Two victims.

Mukuro hadn't even defended herself. She just stood there and _took it_ ; she bit her tongue, clenched her eyes and let Celeste call her out on a crime that she _committed_ with the intention of leaving.

She was shot in the head, _then_ she died a death far more brutal than she deserved. She committed a crime, one that everyone agreed _wouldn't happen_ , but she didn't deserve that. In a world only slightly better than this one, she would've been thrown in prison.

Or, maybe, she would've gotten away with it and continued living her life. But she's dead now. There is no life to live, no dreams to be had. She's dead and that's the end of it.

( _They did not deserve death. Not after the first time; the void acquainted with death is far from a comfortable place._ )

There is no solace to be found in Gonta's brain. He knows this, and finds himself staring at the ceiling. He doesn't pray for anything, nor does he hope.

No matter what, people are going to die, and then people are going to be set free. There's no doubt about that now, even with Kirumi's promise. That promise was broken now, like Mukuro's lower jaw.

Just thinking about the crack, the sound of bones _shattering_ upon hitting the ground, makes Gonta shudder. There's sweat gathering on his brow again—from both the eyes of dead people and the sounds associated with one in particular.

The corpses take turns staring back at him, even if only one of them still has eyes. He can't sleep, not like this.

' _I.. really am selfish._ '

' _See ya, Hara!'_

He's never been a fan of gore. This was one of the _many_ reasons why.

Gonta's thoughts decide to wander, but not to better fields. No, they remain in that same, despairing field; they only move to another _corner_ of it, a corner where Mukuro and Ibuki continue to exist. Thoughts that _don't_ include witnessing a murder or having a close-up with a corpse are hard to come by.

( _He thinks, even if he's only been alive for an afternoon. There is nothing to be happy about._ )

Thoughts about dead people are common. People who are no longer with Gonta, or have been resurrected to play as pawns in this dreaded killing game. 

Gonta finds himself thinking about Ryoma, alongside other people he'd lost in his killing game. Very few of said people are absent, no longer breathing nor walking alongside him in this predicament.

If Monokuma was correct with its 'reasoning', why wasn't _he_ here? What about his wonderful robot friend, Kiibo, who had valiantly sacrificed himself in order to help others escape? What happened to _them?_ His far more rational side says something about not thinking about it, but he can't help himself. Not at this point, when two people have been murdered in under an hour.

This is the first night of many. No matter what happens, the entomologist will _always_ be thinking about this. He tucks his hands beneath his head, jolting slightly when he accidentally tampers with the glove—it stings him awake, although he was sure that he'd just wake up in a cold sweat again regardless.

So, in short, his thoughts are still intrusive _and_ he's becoming an insomniac. Great. This is _just_ what he needed after watching an execution.

He didn't need to sleep, anyways. He can just.. stay up forever, that's definitely a possibility. Stay up until his body forces him to pass out or something along those lines. Yeah, that sounds good.

Slowly, Gonta rises from his splayed out position on his bed. While the mattress was comfortable, his thoughts weren't letting him focus on that—no, they wanted him to think about the people he never got to know.

( _Ibuki seemed like a good person._ )

( _Mukuro could've been a good friend._ )

( _Both of them could've been great friends._ )

The male shakes off the thoughts, sliding off of his bed. A fraction of his blanket follows, folding and wrinkling in a way that could be seen as 'ugly'. However, Gonta wasn't in the presence of the Ultimate Maid nor did he care about the state of his bed ( _which had, most likely, absorbed some of the sweat that'd been sliding down his face this entire time—he'd worry about that when it mattered_ ).

For a moment, he considers throwing water into his face and attempting to go through the process again. It sounds good, even if he's done this seven times already and had the same ol' negative results. At least he was still sympathetic.

Or traumatized. It was one of the two, surely. He was betting on the latter—he didn't feel too sorry for anyone at this point, but he _did_ feel immense disgust and nausea whenever he thought about the most recent corpses. Both of them were sights for sore eyes ( _if those sore eyes were looking to be tainted, that is_ ).

The sound of rapping against his door draws him from his thoughts. Blearily, he looks around his room—it's.. definitely not the time to be walking around. Whoever's on the other side of that door _could_ be intending to kill him. It stops after a while, as if the person has given up or is patiently waiting for Gonta to open the door.

He weighs the pros and cons of the situation, but decides that it's probably not so bad. Probably.

The knocking continues after that moment of silence.

( _If someone wants to kill right after a trial, then they're pretty ballsy.._)

( _And they're stupid. They're very, very stupid._)

With a sigh, Gonta decides that he has nothing better to do—this had a high probability of being worth his time, especially since he already couldn't fall asleep, so he approaches the door with a vaguely interested look on his face. Before the knocking could start up again, he unlocks the door and steps back as he pulls it open.

To be honest, he wouldn't mind if Gundham came here to murder him in cold blood. He would be perfectly fine with that. At this time of night, Gundham could easily pull something like that off. Not like he was in the right mindset to put his absolute all into fighting back or anything..

( _That is, if nobody had the same idea as him; wandering around at night and becoming a witness.._ )

( _Dang, Gonta really needs some sleep. This is getting old, and it hasn't even been a full day yet._)

( _Un_ )fortunately, the breeder doesn't seem to be withholding any malice; he came here with a more.. passive goal, it would seem. His crows are quiet, staring at Gonta with unreadable gazes. Doesn't stop them from drilling holes into his skin with their beady-eyed stares.

Gonta _feels_ like they're judging him. He can't be too sure, concerning the fact that the crows are harnessing 'poker faces'. The entomologist has _no_ idea what he looks like to them. His hair's probably a mess from rolling around in bed, restless and wanting to forget the rancid things that'd taken place mere hours ago.

Not gonna go back to look in the mirror. There's no point anymore.

Gundham looks a bit better than before; less traumatized, a bit more energetic than one would expect, that type of stuff. Then again, he looks like the type to walk around at night. His hair is ruffled, although he looks pretty put together otherwise.

His speech hasn't changed—the only thing that's changed is his voice, which is only a bit raspier due to grogginess ( _presumably_ ). "Greetings, Grandiose One. I have come to retrieve you from your dwelling."

Gonta scratches the side of his head. The hair tangles with his fingers, attempting to keep movement to a minimum, but knots have never stopped Gonta from scratching at his scalp. He's just fortunate enough that he's yet to damage said place on his head because of this stupid little 'habit'—it'd probably pass in due time.

Even so, as stated beforehand, he has other things to worry about. Like the crow-cloaked male standing in front of his door, waiting for a reply with gradually narrowing eyes. He hasn't changed since their first meeting, it would seem; not being the patient type in conversations.

However, Gonta is sleep-deprived and, in short, emotionally exhausted. He has no regard for Gundham's impatience, be it intentional or not. Not like he can really help it at this point, in all honestly.

".. Pardon?" Gonta's 'questioning tone' is surprisingly blunt. His brows knit together and he _thinks_ he's trying to process the other's words. He doesn't know anymore.

Gundham makes a low, offended noise, and the entomologist wonders if he did something wrong; no, because Gundham's stepping back and gesturing Gonta after him with a wave of his hand.

"Retrieve your spectacles, Grandiose One!" He calls, but his voice is significantly muted. Waking up others was _not_ something either of them wanted to do, especially after Mukuro's execution. "Not only must our meeting commence—I reckon it'll leave you in higher spirits—but I have located something of immense importance. Make haste, make haste!"

The taller of the two groans, but turns around and raises his hand; 'wait', and the breeder understands. Fortunately, he _also_ complies, which makes Gonta's life a little easier. Just a little, because he _really_ wants to collapse onto his bed and pass out.

But he knows he can't, and _that's_ what makes him accept Gundham's late-night offer to commence their little meeting. Better than moping around, he guesses.

The entomologist stumbles back into his room, thanking himself for his _phenomenal_ eyesight ( _even if he needed glasses to exist properly—which meant his eyes were NOT as great as he thought they were_ ) as he felt around for his glasses. Thankfully, he fails to crush them under his palm in the process and manages to put them on without stabbing himself in the eye.

Always a good thing.

It takes one glance to realize that Gundham's eyes are both the same color. As in: the pupil that was _red_ is no longer _red_. Gonta stares for a long couple of seconds ( _maybe several, like four or five; too absentminded to count anything_ ) before pulling himself together and returning to his previous location.

Not important. Don't mention it and you'll ( _hopefully_ ) make a new friend. Anyone's better than Kokichi.

( _Kokichi is not Gonta's friend._ )

The latter regards him with a cool gaze, even if there _is_ smudged eyeliner beneath his eyes. He'd probably woken up mere moments ago, or had been deeply affected by the deaths thus far.

One of the two. Smudged makeup is smudged makeup; Gonta shouldn't be looking into it. Not when he's _this_ close to having a potential outlet that'll lead to mass exhaustion; with mass exhaustion, there is sleep. Passing out's better than nothing.

( _... Gonta thinks that Miu wears eyeliner, maybe they have the same brands? He can't remember the finer details of it._ )

( _Most, if not all of his memories about his peers' personal, respective interests are more than just a little foggy. It's definitely because of the lack of sleep._)

( _Right. Sleep. He needs that._ )

"My, you really _are_ under the weather." Gundham comments offhandedly, guiding Gonta from his room—he doesn't touch him, nor does he insinuate that he _wants_ such a thing to happen. He keeps a comfortable distance between them. "Understandably so. Death is a grim topic for those who've seen the other side."

Gonta closes his eyes. Fleetingly, he thinks about the abyss he'd been trapped in for more than just a few minutes. It deserves to be repressed. "There is nothing on the other side."

"I am aware." Gundham makes a turn and Gonta follows, taking a step to the side when he realizes that he strayed a bit too close. "It is dark, lonely—befitting of a dark overlord such as myself, but dangerous for those unacquainted with such elements. I take it that you're not fond of those conditions."

"No," the entomologist replies, voice laced with a yawn. He huffs softly afterwards. "No, Gonta doesn't like abysses."

The two stop talking, if only to address their current surroundings. While it was definitely still dark in the halls, it was far from pitch black. Rays of moonlight seep in through slightly cracked windows, illuminating the floor and walls in a consistent pattern. Said pattern always ends at the end of the hall, repeating in the next one over.

Someone would've tried to climb out of it hadn't Mukuro killed someone so early on. Regardless, the windows were just too high for some people present in the killing game.

Thoughts of escaping the battered, factory-like facility are dampened by the fact that Monokuma—without a doubt—has placed them somewhere different than last time. There might not be a dome. There may not be _grass_. For all he knew, they could be in the Arctic, mere moments away from freezing to death or falling into a pit of water and.. well, freezing to death.

Wherever they were, Gonta wasn't going to chance it. Not if there was the chance that he could fall off a cliff or something stupid like that—the only thing he'd get out of that experience would be a death by his own hands. Technically, anyways, because he'd know the threat _before_ throwing himself out the window all careless-like. Definitely better than being executed.

Thinking about death doesn't really help his situation. It just reminds him of the reason behind tonight's insomnia.

( _Gonta seriously needs some sleep. Maybe some therapy, too._)

One of Gundham's crows nips his shoulder. It doesn't hurt, but it's enough to draw him from his thoughts. His horrible, _horrible_ thoughts. Gundham's sending him a look—one that he can't read, but definitely has some judgement to it.

He expects nothing less from someone like the breeder. Or, perhaps, he expects _judgement._ Both are valid options; he's far too tired to think about it. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezes until it hurts then goes back to looking at his ( _current_ ) companion.

Gundham stares a bit longer, remaining silent all the while. Then he turns and gestures to great, towering and rounded doors etched into a wall. There are two bumblebees hovering over a flower; in the painting depicted on the doors, that is. Gonta has yet to see a living, breathing and fully-functioning bug.

The more he thinks about it, the more depressing it becomes. That would explain his rapidly decreasing mood.

( _That's one thing that's tampering with his mood, he supposes._ )

The breeder lifts his hand, but ultimately decides to drop it to his side once more; he'd been moving to grab Gonta, but, fortunately, decided against it. Neither of them wish to engage in physical contact. They were still acquaintances, after all.

Gundham contemplates _something_ for a moment before pressing said hand to the door. It creaks, painstakingly so, but opens regardless. One can only hope it doesn't wake up anyone nearby.

"The dreaded, _terrible_ excuse of a 'bear'," Gundham grumbles—he pushes against the door again, letting it scrape against the ground and creak some more—"failed to inform us of these locations. So, henceforth, I have taken it upon myself to do nightly rounds starting tonight. It eases the mind greatly."

A cobweb attached to the door's hinges collapses due to the pushing.

For once in his life, Gonta doesn't act on it. He watches it fall, only to latch onto another fragment of a wall. There are other insects wrapped up in the substance. He wonders where the predatory owner of said web is. Perhaps they are away; perhaps they are dead. He wouldn't know.

"Through my mind-cleansing walk, I have located things such as this—a lab of sorts." Gonta perks up a bit at the mention of a lab; so Monokuma poured money into everything _except_ the interior design of this place. Not that he was complaining, but he was _definitely complaining._ "I believe this one belongs to you, Grandiose One! Be wary of where you step; I do not trust that Monokuma has left this place untouched—"

Without a moment of hesitation, Gonta marches into the room. The discoverer of said room sputters out some garbled words—some of which are in English and, therefore, difficult to understand—before following suit. The door creaks shut behind them, but doesn't make too much of a ruckus. Not enough to grab someone's attention or wake anyone up, that is.

That's good. Very good, _tremendously_ good _._

A jumping spider is the first creature sighted. They're quiet, small and occasionally shift from one section of their branch to another. Said specimen seems well-fed, even if Gonta has _no idea_ how long they've been in this enclosure. Probably a long time, judging by how domesticated it was acting. Tentatively, he cracks open the capsule containing the arachnid and sticks his hand it.

He has no sense of self-preservation. However, he also does this because it's _his_ lab and his Ultimate revolves around _bugs._ Arachnids are technically bugs. He'll be fine.

Gundham situates himself beside him, watching the interaction closely. His crows have ( _mostly_ ) dispersed—one sits atop of a far larger enclosure, whereas another is hopping along wooden bars holding the ceiling up. The third remains on their owner's shoulder, and the fourth is nowhere in sight.

They'll be fine.

"While I am the Ultimate Breeder and the renowned Supreme Overlord of Ice," Gundham begins. "Even I have limited knowledge on creatures smaller than my former Dark Devas of Destruction. What is this tiny creature that you trust so easily? Is it harmful? Have you already created a bond with it, far before awakening from your dreamless slumber like the rest of us?"

( _Someone's excited.. and, for once, it's not Gonta._ )

Right, this was their meeting. Even if it didn't go as planned, as it was supposed to take place during the _daytime_ and not after being too restless to get some proper shuteye, this was their meeting. Made things significantly easier, Gonta thinks to himself. The spider finally advances onto Gonta's hand.

After some time, the spider makes their way up to the taller's cuffs. They decide that's a comfortable spot, beginning to groom themselves without much haste. Yes, definitely domesticated; or, perhaps, the creature is too trusting for their own good. The former option feels a lot more reasonable.

"Jumping spiders are harmless." Gonta raises his hand slightly, managing a smile as the spider continues to groom themselves. Gundham watches with an all-too-interested gaze, the crow on his shoulder hopping a little to display their own excitement. "Gonta like them. Tiny, but quick—very helpful, too."

Gundham nods. "I see! A tiny body would provide limberness quite easily.." He then peels his eyes away from the arachnid to peer up at Gonta. "Have you possessed such a beast before? That would truly explain how you tend to it with such ease." The crow snaps their beak in agreement, feathers ruffling up slightly as they preen themselves.

Ah. That.. was definitely a question. One that wasn't personal, but made him think about his life before the darkness of the void overtook him.

( _That only makes it sound a lot darker than it was—it was very dark, yes, but not in that sense._)

In his first lab, Gonta didn't have _live_ jumping spiders. There was a book—a picture book, the ones he loves _so much_ ( _not really; they got uninteresting after a while and they didn't have much else to offer_ )—that showed different types of bugs and stuff, the jumping spider's family tree being some of them. Of course, that's all he knew about them.

They're small, venomous and prefer to stray away from human contact. That's all he could remember at the moment.

The entomologist arches his arm and the spider skids onto his elbow. They decide to stay there for the moment, waiting for Gonta to move again. Gundham looks thoroughly entertained by the position changing. It's better than people screaming about how they despise bugs, or screeching out in fear. Yes, this is definitely better than both of those things.

Gundham's presence is thoroughly appreciated.

"Gonta haven't cared for jumping spiders. Only look at them in picture books." He lifts his other hand, watching as the spider contemplates before skidding onto said hand's palm; it gives him a chance to ( _finally_ ) stop arching his arm. "They very friendly, though. Not like to be with people."

"Anything that speaks will, in due time, betray you." Gundham strokes the back of his crow's head. "I suppose creatures that're inferior in size and fierceness understand this, too."

"They have brains," Gonta says. He feels mildly offended. "They're not stupid."

"I didn't _call_ them stupid." Gundham gripes, but the annoyance is washed away fairly quickly. He's far too interested in the arachnid, it would seem. ".. I will take your word for it, Grandiose One. Inform me on this creature more; perhaps I can congregate a number of them for the Tanaka Empire!"

Well, that solves that. No need to get upset anymore, it would seem.

The entomologist yawns into his fist; the spider fidgets around on his other palm, beginning to groom themselves once more. "Gonta too tired to decline. Gonta start from beginning.."

* * *

 **｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**TANAKA GUNDHAM's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

The conversation continues for a lot longer than Gonta thought it would. Even Gundham looks a _little_ surprised at how much time has passed. According to the latter, they'd been sitting on the floor, staring at released butterflies and talking about different insects and whatnot ( _that part was primarily supplied by Gonta, to no surprise_ ) for an hour. An entire hour, and Gonta hasn't thought about the deaths.

Until he mentioned it internally, of course, but that's beside the point.

He _genuinely_ enjoyed himself. That was something beyond comprehension, especially when he was formerly moping about, traumatized about everything going to _shit_ so quickly. Then again, Monokuma _loved_ its motives. They would only get worse and worse over time.

However, a motive would not be administered tonight ( _and, if they were lucky, there wouldn't be one tomorrow_ ) _._ Not when Gonta's gingerly placing butterflies back in their respective domes and Gundham's herding his crows to congregate in the nest that was his scarf. The butterflies are far less compliant than the crows, but the former manages. Somehow.

He's not the Ultimate Entomologist for nothing ( _even if he hasn't really been feeling that way as of late; death can really dampen your mood_).

The only reason they began to tidy up was because of Kirumi—much like Gundham, she'd taken it upon herself to walk around during the nighttime. Perhaps it has something to do with the current failed-promise situation, or maybe it's to cleanse her mind. Whatever it is, it caused her to peek into the room and advise the two to begin getting ready to sleep.

It was less of her 'advising' and more of her 'demanding'. Gonta won't say that aloud, though, for he respects Kirumi far too much. After all, she's one of the few people he both knows and believes is actively _trying_ her best to keep everyone safe and sane.

Kirumi's been doing a.. decent job with the safe part, but nobody has resorted to falling into a perpetual state of insanity and she's dragged Kokichi away from him several times. Overall, the maid's doing good in the sane department. Maybe. Gonta's not an expert on that kind of stuff.

Once all of the creatures have been sealed away/herded back to their respective resting spaces, both males sigh. Kirumi stands near the entryway, eyes lidded and a broom in hand.

On occasion, she'll lift an unarmed hand and wipe at her eyes, but that's about it. Otherwise, the maid's as still as a statue; both concerning and mildly impressive.

Gundham shoots Gonta a smile that isn't as boisterous as the ones before. Regardless, it makes his eyes wrinkle and Gonta chooses to believe it's genuine. The crows stare at him with their beady eyes once more, although there's a far less judgmental aura about them.

They're definitely tuckered out. He doesn't blame them.

"I request that an event such as this happens again, Grandiose One!" Kirumi narrows her eyes at the volume and the breeder mutters an apology. Right, can't be too loud or you'll wake someone up. Definitely don't wanna do that right now, or anytime later. That's just an accident _waiting_ to happen.

Especially if Kirumi's nearby, wielding a broom of all things. Nobody knows what she'll do with it; definitely not Gonta, who's seen her whack Kokichi upside the head with it for calling her 'mother' one too many times.

Gundham clears his throat. "This experience has granted me many ideas for beasts to recruit into my empire—if you prove yourself to be helpful, I will not hesitate to grant you a special role in my road to world domination!"

( _Gonta has no idea what he's talking about._ )

"Okay," says Gonta. The jumping spider hasn't been returned to their cage. They've perched themselves on his shoulder, rubbing their feelers against the fabric of his current pajamas. "Just.. not at night. Gonta needs sleep."

"Of course! After all, all beings much recharge after wasting their energy away.." The crows snap their beaks in agreement. Must be well-trained to not start squawking whenever they wish to do so; then again, the one who owns such creatures is the Ultimate Breeder and the Ultimate Maid is on standby.

Kirumi would _not_ hesitate. He _knows_ she won't, and that's extremely terrifying if you think about it too much.

( _And, fortunately, Gonta cannot think as much as before. His brain is exhausted, thanks to Gundham's consistent questioning._ )

With that being said, the two decide to finally part ways. Gundham declines Kirumi's assistance on being led back to his room, insisting that he needs to walk around 'a little more' before he retires to his 'abode'. He assures her in his own unique speech that he'll be fine, and he leaves them with a short-strung goodbye.

Gonta finds himself accepting Kirumi's service, on the other hand, and walks side-by-side with her back to his room. A comfortable distance is kept between the two of them, although they don't necessarily look at one another.

They reach the entomologist's room in a matter of seconds. It wasn't too far from the lab, anyhow, and Gonta can see Gundham rounding another corner before disappearing behind a wall. He drops his gaze back down to the maid that'd assisted him and manages a small smile of appreciation. "Thank you, Tojo-san."

She smiles back; it's a treat, in all honesty. It's soft, warm. A good type of warm—the type of warm that reminds him that not all fire will burn and melt him into ash. The spider unnerves her slightly, but she grows used to their presence.

( _Gonta decides to call the spider 'Jumpy'. They accept the name with little enthusiasm, but it's definitely there. Somewhere._ )

"No need to thank me. I am simply doing my job, Gokuhara-kun." Gonta should've expected that reply. After all, Kirumi wasn't one to openly accept praise like that. Oh, well, he'd just have to work toward getting her to act.. normally. As if such a thing exists.

To think, he thought Nagito— _Nagito Komaeda, of all people—_ was sane. The guy's hair looked like _cauliflower_ , and he just trusted that he wasn't demented in one way or another. Everyone here has issues, apparently.

Except for Kirumi, Mahiru, Kaede, Rantaro—ah, wait, that's growing to be a decent lot of people.

Correction: _mostly everyone_ here has issues, apparently.

"Do you need anything else, Gokuhara-kun?" Kirumi remains courteous, even in the dead of night. Her stance is proper, as are her words; Gonta could learn something from her, but not tonight. He needs to sleep. "Food, perhaps? Even if the dining hall is closed, I could always provide an alternative if required."

Knowing Kirumi, she _always_ finds an alternative. Even if the rules stated that entering said locale was prohibited, it wasn't out of the question to hoard food. While the maid wasn't someone to do such a thing on a whim, anything was possible— _especially when everyone here was supposed to be dead._

He smiles, but it's one that's been worn down from misuse. Jumpy taps his shoulder, but their touch is far too light to be properly detected; it's just consistent, innocent tapping. Not hurting anyone. That's just how they felt around. "Gonta is fine. He.. gonna sleep."

The maid blinks before nodding, bowing. "I understand," she says. "Please, rest easy. I apologize for keeping you up."

( _Makes it sound like he's dying or something.._ )

( _Doesn't sound too bad. Definitely holding off on that route, though; he'll consider death, but it's unlikely for him to actually go through with it._)

Gonta doesn't even try to rebut her statement. His thoughts are getting far too jumbled for their own good; _he needs to sleep_. He just bids her farewell, locks the door behind him, settles both his glasses and Jumpy on his nightstand ( _Jumpy will be gone from that space, most likely_ ) and collapses onto bed again.

He closes his eyes. Mukuro's decapitated head stares back, but he manages to ignore it. The shattering of bone and the disgusting sound of skin being torn about by bullets no longer phases him; not tonight, because he's exhausted himself thoroughly.

Ibuki stares at him for a long moment, but she doesn't stay long. Her mutilated body disappears from his nightmares, leaving Mukuro by her lonesome. Her corpse doesn't leave his sight.

Late into the night, Gonta sleeps through his nightmares. It's nice.

Mukuro never leaves his mind, but that's fine. Perfectly fine, really, even if that's the reason why he couldn't sleep in the first place. Gonta just has to suck it up and deal with it; recover that very same resolve that'd been used to deal with the likes of Kokichi.

He grimaces at the thought of the male. He'd rather stare at Mukuro's executed body than dream of _that_ little liar. At least the Ultimate Solider only tricked him with her twisted take on cosplay, nothing more, nothing less. She wasn't the reason why he was here.

Gonta forces himself to stop thinking about the object of his distrust. Instead, he goes back to thinking about nothing; just like that, Mukuro's corpse is back on display, cloaked in a drying sheet of blood. Maggots have decided to squirm around in her skull.

This is fine. Gonta can deal with this ( _hopefully, because he wants to sleep_ ).

( _If that's the price he must pay for sleep, then so be it. He's.. he's seen things._ )

( _This was the worst of them, but he's had his fair share of encounters._ )

( _It doesn't make anything better, but at least he'll sleep a bit—_ )

Jumpy beeps. They sound like an alarm clock— _jumping spiders don't make that noise._

Gonta realizes that the spider was just a _really_ realistic piece of tech; it wasn't real. _Dammit_.

He opens his eyes, snatches the faux insect from the nightstand and crushes it in his fist. Nothing oozes out; just crumbled components and pieces of wire. The remains fall from his clenched fist and scatter across the floor. He wasn't about to get another security camera in his room, _especially_ when it was in the form of a cute little spider.

He dusts off his hands, grumbling about the feeling of metal pushing into his skin—not piercing, just pushing. Far too uncomfortable for his liking.

It takes Gonta a moment to process the fact that he crushed something in the form of a _cute little spider._ He groans, buries his face into the pillow and closes his eyes. He's not going to get that off his conscience for the rest of the night—great, _another_ thing to pair up with the corpses.

Not as bad, but he'll still feel guilty.

( _Monokuma's a piece of work, alright. Just not the good kind._ )

( _Stupid bear.._ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Intermission: The Nightly Transgressions Of An Overlord - END**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 23**

**Tanaka Gundham's Report Card Update:**

_Even late into the night, Gundham manages to make Gonta feel a lot better. He discovered Gonta's lab while wandering around and they had their 'beast tamer meeting' in there. It was actually quite nice, even helping Gonta obtain some much-needed shuteye. Definitely have to thank Gundham for that later on, maybe when the grogginess is gone.._


	8. The Gift Of The Chrysanthemums (Daily Life I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a line is crossed.

** _MONOKUMA THEATER_ **

_There is a boy. He's lonely._

_He doesn't want to be lonely. He wants a friend._

_Two friends, maybe. That'd be nice._

_He sits on the edge of the world. He has a flower. Two flowers._

_One for a friend. Another for a friend, if he's lucky enough to find the first one._

_That boy doesn't sit there anymore._

_There was a boy. He was lonely._

_He didn't want to be lonely. He wanted a friend._

_He sat on the edge of the world. He had a flower. Two flowers._

_One for a friend. Another for friend._

_That boy doesn't exist now. The flowers are gone._

_His two friends are gone. The friends don't exist anymore._

* * *

_"Good morning, everyone! It is now 7 a.m. and **nighttime** is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beee-yutiful day!"_

* * *

Gonta groans at the sound of Monokuma's voice. It's still grating as always, fermenting in his ears and clawing out chunks of his brain—by the end of this, he can only hope that it's melted or fried beyond recognition. There's only so much a man can take.

His relaxed expression contorts into one of annoyance quite easily; even if he's been having back-to-back nightmares, that was _much_ better than listening to Monokuma. Prerecorded message or not, he hates the bear and everything it stands for ( _as long as it was something that's inhumane, like most things the creature endorsed_). Nothing about any of this was okay.

( _.. That's the point, right? It has to be._ )

Bleary gaze and all, Gonta sits up and tugs at his shirt—his nose wrinkles immediately, indicating that a shower is _mandatory._ Even if he'd gotten some sleep, that didn't stop him from sweating all over the place. He wouldn't be surprised if there was a puddle cultivating beneath him at this very moment. Just thinking about it was enough to force him out of bed, hastily patting down the sheets and mattress for any signs of dampness.

Fortunately, there were none. A relief, truly, because Gonta doesn't want to tax Kirumi with such a minor issue. He knew she could get stains off of mattress and other pieces of cloth fairly easily, but he didn't want to bother her. Not this early in the morning—assuming that she won't trot into his room and clean up, anyways.

Assuming. It's such a feeble concept. You can never be too sure about what's going to happen or not.

Regarding Kirumi's presence in Gonta's lab last night, it was likely that she's capable of entering other's rooms to clean. That mattress would be _spotless_ when he comes back from.. whatever he's gonna do.

Shower. He's gonna take a shower. That's the first thing he'll do, then he'll see if anyone else is awake.

With a grunt, Gonta's runs his hand through his tangled and tousled hair. His fingers skim the holder keeping his hair up, reminding him of the reason _why_ his hair was tangled; one of the reasons, anyways, because rolling around on the bed was something that usually messed up someone's hair.

.. It's also probably the reason behind Mukuro's corpse's persistence. That should've been expected from the start; the start being when Nagito narrowed down the culprits to Korekiyo and Mukuro. Gonta's hand hovers over the item keeping his hair from falling over his shoulders.

( _Gonta doesn't really have a choice. After all, Gonta don't know how to put his hair up._)

(...)

He picks at the holder a couple of times before tightening it. It strains against his hair, so he does it again, again and again..

And then it snaps. Good. He can't be in a shower with a ponytail. He knew that much from experience and he didn't need to relieve that experience. That's the whole reason his hair was always cascading down his back; Kirumi insisted that he kept it down for washing purposes, and he continued to listen to her ( _even after she was brutalized and he had to get help from Korekiyo and Shuichi_ ).

His fingers tangle with knotted strands and dead, stray pieces of hair. Washing his hair—he would have to recall the process of such a task, unfortunately—was _also_ mandatory. That is, if he didn't want someone to yank on his ponytail and have a giant clump of dead hair to sizzle out. That'd be disgusting, and Gonta already knew that wasn't something considered 'gentlemanly'.

How much longer is he gonna keep this up? It, much like the snapping of his glove, is just another coping mechanism for his unjust trauma. He shouldn't feel bad about this. It was all his fault, _he's_ the reason he died and ended up here. He killed _someone_ who did nothing wrong out of his free will.

( _No matter the amount of times_ _he tells himself that, Kokichi's existence bothers Gonta._ )

( _Even then.._ )

.. Shower. He needs a shower. Yeah, that'll fix everything. Sitting on the edge of his bed, cloaked in sweat and must—that's not gonna do anything for him. Not gonna fix his messed up mental state or keep Mukuro from popping up in his nightmares or thinking about _Jumpy_.

Red pupils flick towards the spot in front of the nightstand. They flee hastily, shifting elsewhere as the entomologist rises from his spot on the bed to haul himself toward his closet. Absentmindedly, he pulls out a black vest decked out with golden engravings, black pants and white shirt. He'll nab a necktie later, he supposes, because he's too intent on getting in a nice, warm shower.

The thought of getting a little relief, even in the form of cleaning himself.. it's mundane, but a blessing for a situation like this. Gonta really can't help the negative (and/or congestive) thoughts.

It is what it is. If he can't control his emotions, then he might as well be the equivalent of Kaede and Shuichi. Two great people who've succumbed to their emotions one too many times (not like Kaede got to experience the rush of anger or complete and utter _sorrow_ because of her short life).

Referring to his friends as 'bad examples' feels weird. Gonta wouldn't typically think about such things, he reckons, balancing his items on an arm. Typically, he'd be the happiest person alive, simply glad to be seen as a _normal human being._

Now? Well, he was just an empty, traumatized husk of what he used to be. He couldn't even _smile_ genuinely anymore—it was either forced or emphasized to look vaguely normal. His eyes were weary and the insatiable want to cave someone's skull in, including his own, was awfully new to him.

That did not mean he repressed such thoughts. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. So, laxly, he allows himself to succumb and drown in whatever makes him think about death. Maybe it's Monokuma. Maybe it's because he's not strong enough mentally, physically, and just allows this to happen.

Maybe, maybe.The possibilities are endless.

( _Stop.)_

 _(Gonta's hurting himself again. His mental state is in shambles._ )

The bathroom hasn't changed in the slightest, assuming that Gonta's vision hasn't flopped in the last few hours. His eyes burn when he turns on the light, but he can't be bothered to turn around and nab his glasses off the nightstand. It'll simply take far too long and he's lacking the proper energy to do such a thing.

Later. He'll retrieve them later; he doesn't need them right now, not when he's taking a shower.

"This is tiring," Gonta utters. His eyes still hurt from the light, but they'll get used to it. "All of this. Gonta wanna stay dead. Should've.. never woke up."

He sheds out of his must-cloaked clothing, dropping it in a heap on the mat in front of the sink. They'll be in the washing machine sooner of later; not like _he's_ gonna do that, not after what happened last night.

Not only that, but he didn't know how to operate a washing machine in the first place. A lesson or two from Kirumi was in order.

In the meantime, he'd deal with his own dilemmas. One of which being quite strange for someone who was properly acquainted with society. Or not. The entomologist wouldn't know, concerning his lack of knowledge on different types of hygiene ( _aside from cleaning himself, utilizing a restroom and brushing his teeth_ ).

With that being said, Gonta has never washed his hair before. Therefore, it's a surprise to see a bottle of 'hair soap' ( _of course, it has Monokuma's face on the side—stupid little fucker_ ) sitting on a rack attached to the tiled wall. At least the walls in the bathroom weren't grimy..

".. Shampoo. What.. is shampoo..?"

Gonta finds himself standing beneath the shower head, curtains drawn and water spraying down on him. In his hand, there is a bottle of shampoo—he thinks that's what it is, anyways. He can't be too sure, as he's never bothered to wash his hair. Again, not on his own, because he only knew how to take a shower and wring out his wet hair afterwards.

He wasn't about to ask Kirumi to wash his hair. She'd done that enough times when she was alive; she didn't need to do it again, not when she was doing nightly rounds ( _apparently_ ), stressing over resurrections and the deaths of their would-be-friends.

Would be.

( _This.. has grown to be quite annoying._ )

He turns the bottle over, eyes straining to read the small letters. The water raining down on him didn't help in the slightest, but at least he was taking a shower. It was.. calming. Kind of, he supposes. "Shampoo is soap.. for hair. Can't have in eyes; causes burning."

Gonta remains still. His hair dampens drastically over time, the water growing a tad bit lukewarm in the process. Then, with a small sigh, he ( _after a minute or two_ ) pops open the cap and squeezes it—not too tightly, though, because he could vaguely recall a situation akin to _that_. It spurts out into his palm, already beginning to dissolve under the water's wrath.

( _Once, he'd drained a bottle of lotion with one squeeze by accident. Once._ )

Hesitantly, he begins to scrub the thick, unkempt and dampened strands cloaking his scalp. He tries his best to remember what the bottle told him—rub into the hair, clean it properly, keep out of eyes, all that _strange_ stuff. How does one clean their hair 'properly'? Why does he need to keep it out of his eyes? Monokuma was purposefully being vague about the concept of washing one's hair, if only to further add to his torment.

Gonta hates the bear. He hates it, he _hates_ it, and he realizes something—two things, he realizes two things and they almost make him dribble shampoo into his forever-glaring eyes.

Gonta has _never_ alluded to the word 'hate'. Furthermore, Gonta has _never_ hated something as much as he _hates_ the bear.

He's never _hated._

A look of distress crosses his features. The emotion was new, _far_ too new for his liking. He didn't know what it was like to actually _hate_ someone. To not exaggerate the word, as he'd seen Kaito do thousands upon thousands of times in the past.

Mildly dislike, sure, he knew about that, everyone knew about that.

Not like in the slightest; well, that explained his current view on Kokichi, didn't it? 

But hate? _Hate?_

Gonta clenches fistfuls of his hair, all before beginning to scrub vigorously. Shampoo oozes from his fists, seeping out of any openings available—the cracks in his hands, the entire bottom portion of his palm, _any openings available._ He keeps his hands away from his face, intent on following the instructions listed on the bottle.

( _Gentlemen always listen to rules._ )

(.. _Not Monokuma's rules, but general rules. Rules that won't hurt anyone._ )

His grip tightens significantly. It stings, the tension between the tight grip and his scalp and the strands of hair, but nothing keeps him from hurting himself. He pulls and yelps softly at the sting—he should've expected that, and he did, and it still hurt.

He massages his scalp for a moment, hoping that the pain will leave. The sting dissolves. The pain is gone, if only temporarily.

"Shower," Gonta reminds himself. He reckons he sounds annoyed ( _and he most definitely is_) and knows why. He knows why he's annoyed, but he doesn't address it; not now, anyways. Besides, he was busy doing something that was.. kind of.. like self-care. He needs that. Kirumi said believed that he needed to take proper care of himself once upon a time, although he was quite sure that hadn't changed.

Nobody ( _aside from Korekiyo, who was hopefully not affiliated with their deceased sister and seems a lot more mellow_) seemed to change. It was just his opinions on them that changed.

Gonta shakes his head. He regrets it, if only for a handful of seconds, before squeezing his hair again. The shampoo that hadn't been washed out ( _or thrown into the wall in front of_ _him from the head-shaking_ ) dribbles onto the floor. "Gonta.. taking a shower. Focus on shower."

* * *

The freshly-cleaned entomologist stumbles into his room a mere thirty minutes later. Nobody's knocked on his door, it would seem, as they would've _definitely_ tried to ram it down by now. He was happy to still have a door; that was very important, concerning their circumstances.

That, and he never liked sleeping with his door opened. It pummeled him with anxiety, and he had enough of that hiding in the crevices of his brain. Said organ would probably explode if more anxiety managed to sneak in.

( _Exploding brain.. that's a familiar image, isn't it?_)

( _Gonta doesn't encourage the thought._ )

He snatches his glasses off the nightstand and pushes them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. They're only slightly uncomfortable, but that's because they're prescription glasses _and_ he just started wearing them yesterday. Not only that, but his eyes had adjusted to the lack of protection and were forced to readjust for a second time.

.. And they would occasionally begin to slide down his nose. That was just annoying.

Gonta pats himself down for a moment. He takes another step towards the nightstand, but winces at the crumbling that erupts beneath his foot. It doesn't hurt, no, but it's a harsh reminder of what transpired last night. A few wires are still strewn about, as are the remaining pieces of Jumpy.

He named the damn thing. How stupid was he, believing that Monokuma would ever give him the chance to bond with something that _wouldn't_ remind him of his former place in the game? He wants nothing to do with Kokichi anymore, Kirumi's already taken it upon herself to support him and Korekiyo..

Well, some people don't change. Korekiyo was still hard to read and that'd never change. It was their most endearing trait, apart from how they got when they were excited.

That was _definitely_ on par with their secrecy. Both traits made them unique and, therefore, someone likable.

Very, very likable. And cute.

Gonta stops for a moment. He then feels his face heat up; he stumbles away from Jumpy's remains and dusts off his foot, attempting to cool his rapidly spinning brain. Such a shift in mood was _not_ something he was used to, especially when it revolved around past.. interests, as one might say.

"No!" He hits himself on the head, shaking it afterwards and letting his hair pool around his shoulders from slouching. "Bad! Bad, bad, bad!" He continues to pummel himself, although the blows are relatively light and do very little damage. Thinking about such things in a killing game—it's a mistake, all of it's just one big mistake.

( _Korekiyo died moments after Gonta's little confession._ )

( _Korekiyo did not care for it, but amused the idea in favor of observing his smitten behavior._ )

Even after months piling over months, Gonta _still_ felt that same feeling toward Korekiyo; it was muted severely, yes, but it was _there_ and it was _tormenting_ him. He didn't want to relive those moments, not when Korekiyo didn't seem to recall any of it ( _they were as aloof as always during their last few interactions; apart from the.. execution, of course_ ) and was becoming an instigator.

Not when they were in a killing game. There was no telling whether or not Korekiyo would just..

There's a knock at his door. It cuts into his jumbled thoughts, replacing them with the usual forecast—anxiety and whatever other emotion was clawing at his consciousness.

Hesitantly, he takes a step closer to the entryway/exit, simply wondering who was attempting to retrieve him _this_ time.

What time was it, anyways? It was definitely past seven, as per the morning announcement, but that was his only lead. For all he knew, it could be eight thirty, or maybe even eleven fifty—!

The knocking starts up again and Gonta swallows down a groan. Instead of letting it continue like he did with Gundham, he pops open the door and immediately regrets his decision.

Kirumi stands in front of him, fists clenched tightly around a broom. She's adorning a different attire, strangely enough, one he hadn't seen her wearing last night. Then again, she was definitely in her nightgown last time.. right? He couldn't be sure.

She raises a hand to adjust the necktie hanging from her suit's collar, lowering it to dust off the frilly, gown-like skirt that barely skims her ankles. Then she's assuming her former position once more, dropping into a bow before doing so.

"Do you require assistance getting ready for the day, Gokuhara-kun?" She asks, voice soft and soothing. Like a mother's, the voice a mother would have as she consoles her children who she cares _very dearly about because she wants them to be okay._

( _.. These mood-shifts are getting out of hand. He could've sworn he was reminiscing about a stupid 'crush' gone wrong._ )

Kirumi tilts her head. She's observing him, gaze calculating and skilled—to no surprise, concerning her 'occupation' for a lack of a better term. The maid then takes a step back, adjusting the broom in her grasp. "I can put your hair up, if you would like."

"Please," Gonta utters. "Gonta would appreciate that."

Kirumi nods, reaches into one of her pockets and searches for a moment. Within seconds, she's requesting Gonta to kneel and begins to pull his hair into a ponytail. The holder strains against the hair, as expected, but doesn't do much else. Everything stays in place, although Gonta knows he's gonna break the item later on when he has to wash his hair.

He'll do it as sparingly as possible. Messing up Kirumi's hard work was the last thing he wanted to do—he'd just feel far too guilty if such a thing happened. She works far too hard and long to be inconvenienced by someone like himself.

 _Someone_ sounds like Nagito. Gonta stifles a grunt at the comparison. Self-loathing and all of its hidden, misplaced pleasures.

Kirumi pats his head gently. She rounds back around to stand in front of him, retrieves her discarded broom and wields it once again. "You can get off your knees, Gokuhara-kun. I have completed my task."

Ah. Gonta tentatively pokes at the holder. It stands strong, much to his fortune, and he rises off his knees to loom over his older colleague once more. She shoots him a smile—not a genuine one, far from it, but one that displays her work etiquette. "Thank you, Tojo-san."

"I require no thanks." Kirumi looks in the direction of the dining hall. She glances over at him before holding out an arm in said direction. "However, I must ask you to follow me to the dining hall; I shall be your escort for the time being, then I'll go wake up some others."

When Gonta stares at her, she hums. "Ishimaru-kun's orders." It's strange how everything clears up with those very few words, even if he didn't know Kiyotaka prior to this event.

To be frank, he would've been fine with _never_ seeing anyone here again. Some people resurfaced bad memories whereas others were complete strangers. Everything about this 'second-life' killing game was made to torment everyone present.

( _Nagito definitely has some trauma, concerning his strange and unhinged obsession with Ultimates and 'hope'. Same with the rest of his peers; nobody here was okay, but they were all messed up in their own unique ways._)

( _... Kirumi is right there._)

Fortunately for Gonta, Kirumi isn't one to pry into other's thoughts; if anything, she only regards him with a knowing look before turning and beginning to walk away. It takes a few moments to register her movement, but the tall mass of muscle and freshly-washed hair follows after her.

It's comparable to a lost puppy. Only if said puppy was intimidating and bigger than a normal puppy; bigger than an adult puppy, too, depending on what breed you were going for. Not to say that Gonta should be assigned a dog breed, no, but the phrase and meaning are still there.

The walk to the dining hall feels remarkably shorter than beforehand. On their way there, several others can be sighted lingering around the area; they're either lingering or on their way to the hall, too, although it doesn't take a genius to guess that. _Especially_ when said people are walking in the same direction as them.

Korekiyo, the very person who'd been plaguing Gonta's thoughts while he stood idle and perturbed, is adjusting their sleeves and closing a door behind them with a foot. Even with their entire get-up, it's definitely a mixture of different cultures; the haori, some sort of military uniform beneath it and hefty black boots to top it all off. The combination sounds atrocious, but Korekiyo makes it work.

Or Monokuma made it work. Whichever option kept Gonta's mind from crawling into the gutter. That hole doesn't need to be any deeper than it already is.

Korekiyo sends a wave his way and he feels strange. He returns the wave halfheartedly.

Angie sashays into frame minutes later, grinning up at Gonta. She's definitely still hung up on the fact that he disapproved of Atua's word; although he was very aware that she was hiding her own opinions behind the guise of a God. That was definitely some commitment to being manipulative, that's for sure, but it wasn't like Gonta was going to let her push him around.

Strangely enough, her hair was shorter than before and had two braids framing her face. After the first few strands that came before them, of course, but seeing her with such a different style was strange. Not only that, but a sunhat was upon her head, providing cover to her sunglasses-covered eyes. The frames were yellow, which wasn't much of surprise ( _she once mentioned that she liked the color; don't know when, but she did_ ), but why did she have _sunglasses_ _?_

She wore a beige dress, a black corset wrapped around her midsection, although it was small enough to show off her pierced stomach. The silken dress part of the outfit was, obviously, in two sections, making it less of a dress and more of a 'set' of sorts. What looked to be a skirt dripped down to her knees, not showing nearly as much skin as the previous outfit.

Thank God.

( _Angie's eyes widen slightly. Ah._ )

The artist's wearing sandals, too, and the utility belt is still hanging from her waist. Some people really had large changes to their outfits, whereas others were like Kirumi and had simpler changes. Suppose that's fair, concerning the more bombastic personalities needed.. well, more bombastic attire.

"What's with the hair?" Gonta blurts out. "A-and the sunglasses."

Angie stares. She then grins, squishing one of her cheeks with a finger as she peers up at him. "Atua told me to cut my hair, for it'd be getting hotter! The sunglasses are for the incoming rays, nyahaha!"

She's still cryptic, even as she skips ahead of them with her one hand swaying back and forth, whereas the other keeps her hat from slipping off her head.

"It's strange." Kirumi speaks up. "Just about everyone has a different hairstyle, a different everything.. it feels like Monokuma is a lot more aware of what we like to wear, what we're most comfortable in. A lot more correlation to our personalities, don't you think?" She turns to him and Gonta can only nod.

He should've expected a deep analysis from the maid, but he hadn't, and was left temporarily stunned. However, once he comes to his senses, he spots Pekoyama. She shuts her door behind her silently, and it's only then that he notices the differences in.. uh, doors, weirdly enough. She has a sliding door, one that's slightly see-through due to the material it's made up of.

Rather than the skirt and stockings she'd been adorning yesterday, she, too, looked drastically different. Her trusty weapon was strapped to the side of her belt, sheathed in a metal container rather than the typical bag; therefore, she could _definitely_ unsheathe it faster than before. Dangerous.

Pekoyama was showing more skin than before, noted by how her arms, shoulders and thighs ( _her pants had holes beneath the belt, displaying the skin there; yeah, Monokuma was.. strange for that one_ ) were exposed. When she turns to check on her closed door, it's also made apparent that there's a large dip that displays her tattooed back. So far, both she and Mondo have tattoos; wonder why.

She adjusts her top before turning around, pushing her glasses up and cracking her knuckles. It's not supposed to be threatening, but the movement makes Gonta wince softly and glance away. Yeah, it was definitely dangerous to have someone like her around; maybe more dangerous than Mukuro, concerning her access to a _sword_ and her well-defined muscles.

( _At least she's in shape?_ )

( _This is a killing game with several bodybuilders, including himself. What a mess._)

"After you," Kirumi's voice rings. Gonta is startled out of his thoughts once again, staring at the agape door. Korekiyo slides by him, disappearing behind the other door after making a turn. Pekoyama waits patiently beside him, unsurprisingly quick and silent on her feet. She nods to him, gaze searching and collected, and he finally moves inside.

The locale is strangely full for the time of day. Didn't the announcement play mere moments ago? Well, he wouldn't know, because he'd taken a shower and washed his hair and had an existential crisis before Kirumi came to pick him up for more important matters.

Gonta's concept of time is warped to hell and back. He doesn't try to understand it anymore.

Kiyotaka is perched atop of a makeshift stool, because God forbid he stand on one of the tables. People were either gathered in front of him or seated on a bench, enjoying their breakfast. Kirumi disappears for a hot second, but returns with a sandwich and places it in Gonta's hands. She watches him until he takes a bite out of it, then turns to their current leader.

(' _Leader'. Blegh, that word tastes foul in Gonta's thoughts._ )

She bows, hangs wringing together. "I must excuse myself from the meeting for the time being." Kiyotaka makes a small noise of confusion, prompting Kirumi to continue her explanation of her wish to be absent. "There is someone who's not present. I will see if I can retrieve her from her dorm; until then, please, don't wait for my return. Carry on with the meeting as if I'm present."

Gonta wishes that the woman beside him could afford to relax. Just once, just for _one_ second, even that would be okay. But, to nobody's surprise, she rises up, nods to Kiyotaka and turns. None bother to wave her off, as she's already gone and the door comes to a close behind her.

Kiyotaka looks nervous for a moment. Gonta knows why. This was how they lost Ibuki, but Kirumi could defend herself against anyone who wasn't Sakura, Nekomaru or Pekoyama. And, for all he knew, those three were actually quite nice, if only somewhat intimidating regarding their physical appearance.

Their uniformed leader; gross, disgusting, such a horrible word; clears his throat. "A-alright!" He stumbles over the word slightly, but regains his faux confidence in the situation. Kirumi won't die. She'll be fine. There won't be another murder today.

Hopefully.

"Let's get our morning meeting started! Has everyone gotten their fair share of food? If not, please, retrieve it from the table behind me as I speak!" Several people make their way over to the food, picking up their meal of choice and beginning to quietly nibble ( _or gorge, if you were Miu or Nekomaru_ ) at their breakfast. Kiyotaka seems somewhat pleased with the docility, even if some of them begin to bicker over snacks.

He looks over at the television hanging above them and glares. It's definitely a look on him, concerning how his brows make it look like he's scowling eternally. "This meeting is being held because of a request from our.. _headmaster_. It wished for us to congregate in the dining hall; I cannot tell you the reason, even if I wanted to."

Tenko scoffs loudly, arms crossed and gaze aggressive. Much like Angie, she is holding a grudge; to no surprise, concerning the fact that her newest friend got executed right before her eyes. Didn't help that Taka was a male. "As if you don't know! You're just keeping us from the truth, like any degenerate male would!"

Kiyotaka's glare drops to the girl. Tenko glares right back, and the air becomes tense around them.

 _Only_ around them, for everyone else begins to either murmur among themselves or gorge on the food they've acquired. Some people create small groups, chatting to one another as if they've been friends for years.

Gonta wouldn't know that, of course, for he doesn't know more than half of these people. He's only become acquainted with a good handful of them, although Gundham's the closest _stranger_ ; as in ' _someone who wasn't in HIS killing game_ ; as of right.

Speaking of the breeder, he's off to the side, observing others. The behavior reminds him of a certain anthropologist, but the thought of Korekiyo is simply buried under a layer of strange, uncertain emotions. Such a bad time to remember such feelings, even if he had no recollection of them beforehand.

( _This is Monokuma's fault._ )

Almost as if he'd summoned the bear, the television screen fizzles to life. Conversations gradually die out as everyone focuses on the low hanging item, wires oozing and waiting to be yanked from their stationary positioning. Mondo came close to yanking one or two out once, but it was for the best that he hadn't.

He would've been executed on the spot if he managed to get away with that, actually. Instantaneous death. Three fatal incidents would've completely obliterated any ounce of solace anyone had left in them.

The bear's familiar face appears on the screen after a few moments of static. It's brandishing another wine glass and Gonta is happy that Kirumi doesn't have to watch it spill the liquids everywhere. This whole charade was just fruitless mocking, honestly, and it seems to work on most of his peers.

'Peers'. There has to be a better word than that.

"Hello, my little cubs!" Monokuma's squeaky voice echoes throughout the hall and Gonta has to keep himself from covering his ears. Kiyotaka's glare lands on the screen instead of Tenko, choosing the greater of two evils ( _not saying Tenko was evil, but.._) to focus on.

Nobody speaks. Mondo rolls his eyes, throwing one leg over the other as he leans back on the table behind Kiyotaka. "Quit callin' us that, you piece of shit," he spits. There is a hefty dose of venom in his tone.

Monokuma feigns surprise. It drops the glass and someone winces as it shatters. "You kiss your _mother_ with that mouth?"

Mondo narrows his eyes, but says nothing. Kiyotaka steps down to sit beside the male, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking his head. Gonta sees him mouth, 'it's not worth it'.

"Anyways," Monokuma drawls, going lax in its seat. "Announcement time! Two important announcements _should_ be made, but I suppose you've figured out the first one; you're emotions! They're not longer in shambles, so be happy that I didn't erase them completely!"

( _Gonta was right; it was_ _Monokuma's fault._ )

Nekomaru clenches his fists, ready to erupt at any given time. He never gets the chance, for the better or worse, because Sakura lifts a hand and sends the headmaster a questioning look. "Care to go into that a little more?"

Monokuma claps, which sounds a lot less metallic than one would assume. "Oh, I'm happy you asked!" It taps its chest, seemingly signalling to a heart that it didn't have. The irony.

"You see, all of the emotions you felt in your past killing game.. I've given them back to you! Well, almost all of them.." It taps its 'chin' before outstretching its limbs, acting like some sort of child or the like. "This can't just be a bunch of people killing each other! There's gotta be romance, betrayal, that's what gets the ratings up, that's what gets the blood _pumpin'!_ "

Mahiru looks mildly annoyed. "Alright, alright; what's the other announcement?"

The bear visibly deflates; great, the photographer managed to kill the stupid thing's mood. For the moment, at least, because Monokuma springs right back up as if it wasn't affected by the female's words. That was probably the truth of it all, to be honest.

Monokuma doesn't have any emotions. It's the living embodiment of cyanide and tragedy.

"Since you solved a murder and apprehended the culprit—" Gonta suppresses a wince at the reminder of what kept him up last night. "—I've decided to reward you with something _other_ than your repressed emotional baggage! Behold, _Jabberwock Island!_ "

Were those exit doors always there? Perhaps not, but they creak open and a harsh light dives into the room. Once Gonta's eyes adjust to the sudden flash, he's stumped.

There, right before his very eyes, is a beach. One with palm trees sprouting from the ground and sand cloaking the ground, water occasionally entering his field of sight to brush against the many grains. They're.. on a island? _How on Earth are they on an island?!_

( _Stupid question: Monokuma can do literally anything._ )

The doors behind him, the ones that lead into the hallway and every other room that people reside in, open and in comes Kirumi. Nobody follows after her, proving that she was unsuccessful in bringing someone along with her, but she stops in her tracks to stare up at the bear. Her eyes narrow and she glares, although she remains proper and keeps her mouth shut.

Like a maid who wants to do a good job of keeping not only others, but herself in check. If only she could be a little less tense..

Gonta has little time to question if the beach foreground is just another illusion, because Leon and Mondo are barking out words of surprise as the likes of Sayaka and Chihiro run by them, disappearing into the rays of sunlight for a moment's notice. The biker snarls and chases after the programmer, whereas Leon shakes his fist and gives chase.

They have little regard for their own safety, it would seem. How perplexing.

Monokuma doesn't stick around for much longer, for the screen sizzles and static overcomes it before anyone can question the bear any further. Kiyotaka grits his teeth, turning to his 'classmates'—it was a stretch, but Gonta allowed it simply because he meant well.

"I.. suppose we should go outside." He murmurs. "Tojo-san, could you lead them out? I need a moment." Kirumi nods, bowing before signalling for the others to follow after her. Gonta is hesitant, but begins to trail after the woman; not without casting the Ultimate Moral Compass a look of concern.

Kiyotaka only smiles tiredly at him. He looks both mentally and physically exhausted.

Gundham falls into line beside Gonta, one hand lifted to graze one of his crows' heads. He hasn't heard him utter a single word about the creatures' names, but he doesn't think that they've _been_ named. After all, it was briefly mentioned that these were his new beasts.

He lost his old ones. Perhaps they would be given the same names.

"This place.." Gundham lingers behind Gonta for a moment, whereas the entomologist is already feeling sand seeping between his toes and fermenting there until he takes another shower. "I'm sure that there are others who feel wary of this island. There is a negative energy coming from it."

Gonta quirks a brow, but immediately fixes his expression when he gets a good look at the Ultimate Breeder. He looks apprehensive, eyes looking left to right—paranoia, perhaps, or maybe this was where his killing game took place.

Kaede is on the other side of him, and immediately takes on a curious look. She purses her lips a bit before opening them to speak; "Is this where your killing game took place, Tanaka-kun?"

Gundham says nothing. His fists clench.

Ah. That makes sense. Best not to bring that point up again; it's obviously a sensitive topic and he doesn't want to lose the person who aided him with his nightmare issue. Not only that, but Gundham was one of the few people—if not the only person—who didn't mind his connection to bugs.

Instead, he frowns slightly. "Gonta understand." And, surprisingly enough, Gundham relaxes a bit and finally takes a step outside. However, he still sticks close to the taller and regards his surroundings warily.

( _Monokuma's a real pain in the a—_ )

Kiyotaka stomps past the two, startling both of them simultaneously, for he didn't even bother to announce his presence this time around. Gundham and Gonta exchange looks as the door slams shut behind them, leaving them in this strange, new locale. Well, this was new for _Gonta_. Definitely has some buried trauma for the Ultimate Breeder, unfortunately.

The moral compass inhales stiffly, shoulders squared and legs held together tightly. He looks uncomfortable, to say the very least, but he's been holding that stance for quite some time. It was hard to tell if it was _because_ he was uncomfortable or if it was just his default stance.

He clears his throat and people stop stomping in the sand and throwing it into the ocean. Yeah, he's uncomfortable, judging by the look on his face. "Monokuma has.. left me with some information regarding our new.. surrounding area."

Tenko hisses through her teeth, but Sakura keeps her from lashing out. Kirumi is on standby, glancing over at the pair of fighters with a harsh gaze; one that only hardens when her pupils flick up to stare back into Gonta's.

She's frightening.

"It would seem like.. our belongings are going to be moved out here," there are several snarls and words of annoyance among the crowd, "because Monokuma has dorms prepared for us.. out here. Or cabins, as he put it.."

Gundham stiffens beside Gonta. He doesn't have to be touching the male to notice it out of the corner of his eye, and the crows perched along his shoulder lower their heads. One begins to scream, but silences itself when a bandaged hand presses against the back of their neck.

Kaede is silent beside them, brows knitted in both concern and worry. Gonta can't blame her; she's always been the emotionally-driven type, even if he only knew her for a little while before her execution.

She then takes a step forward, noting how the announcement had ended by now. "Ah, do you think we could swim away from here..?"

Pekoyama shakes her head, arms crossed over her chest. She stares at the horizon, eyes narrowed in what appeared to be disinterest. Once again, he couldn't blame her. This whole situation was just getting a lot more exhausting, especially with the abrupt change in scenery. "No. There are mutated sharks in the water—"

"The things swarming the depths aren't sharks," Gundham interjects semi-weakly. He's obviously still a bit out of it, judging by how he shuts his eyes. Those cabins were probably used by his former companions, some of which are here with him. "They're not even marine beasts.."

Pekoyama makes a small noise of understanding. "Ah, I see. I apologize."

Kirumi glances over the crowd, eyes still fierce and daring someone to take a go at her patience. Fortunately, nobody takes up that dare, and she claps her hands to gather everyone's attention. She, too, is a leader, if only because of her current role in everything.

She supports Kiyotaka's leadership, leading to her being something along the lines of 'second-in-command'. Something like that.

"A small announcement before we take our respective leaves. As some of you may have noticed, we are short one person—Mikan Tsumiki. She's currently remaining in her room for the time being, although I'm sure Monokuma will forcibly remove her at one point or another, seeing as we're no longer remaining in the facility. She's distraught from yesterday's events."

Nagito sways in place, if only slightly, and is not affected by the news in the slightest. "Ah, such is expected from a follower of Despair.. not being able to accept an advancement made for the sake of hope and never getting over it!"

Gonta, much like the others, ignores the words that leave the pale male's mouth.

( _He's insane, he's inconsiderate—don't listen, don't listen, it's just like Kokichi, it's just like Kokichi—_)

"I can tie him up if he's causing too much trouble!" Nekomaru bellows. Nagito blinks, almost as if he hadn't expected something like that to be said, and looks to Kiyotaka with a strangely innocent expression on his face.

The moral compass in question remains silent, although he does advert his gaze and rub his shoulder sheepishly. Kirumi steps away from Tenko and Sakura to nod to Nekomaru, making a small motion with her hand that indicates that yes, Nagito can be dragged away and tied up.

"Remove him from the premises for the time being, please."

"Eh—?" Nagito is snatched up within seconds, left to hang limply over Nekomaru's shoulder as he's taken away. His gaze is blank, as if he's entered a state of shock or deja vu whilst he's being taken away. The two disappear into a building that doesn't necessarily seem all that great. 

Gonta looks between Gundham and Kaede—the former still looks exasperated from either trauma or the stress of the situation ( _or both_ ), whereas the latter is stuck in a state of eternal confusion.

Relatable, the both of them.

"He's getting tied up?" Kokichi chimes, and Gonta fights the urge to plug his ears. "That's kind of suspicious, don't you think? If you think about it, isn't that some sort of fet—"

"Don't finish that sentence." Korekiyo blanches, looking visibly uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. "I _will_ tear out your nerves if you do."

This time, Kokichi's the one who goes pale at the threat. Gonta is vaguely aware of the fact that Korekiyo can, in fact, tear out someone's nervous system if they tried hard enough.

"The negative bedlam shouldn't be allowed to roam the lands freely." Gundham seems to notice that the space between him and Gonta has decreased, taking a small step to the side to ensure that their shoulders don't brush against one another. "He reeks of pandemonium—there is enough of that as there is, quite frankly."

Kiyotaka sends Kirumi a conflicted look. The woman merely waves him over before turning to everyone else, hands intertwined as Kiyotaka breathes out a sigh. The both of them must be exhausted, having the be the leaders when two people have already died. Such a large weight on their shoulders, having to keep everyone safe and all that.

"You may do whatever you please. Exploration is recommended, but I have little control over the lot of you." Kirumi dips her head down before walking along the beach, Kiyotaka in tow ( _but not after he waves goodbye to Mondo and Chihiro, who've settled in the sand and begun to mess around with it like a pair of toddlers._ )

And that's when the little gremlin, the true tormentor of Gonta's hopes and dreams and _nightmares_ on occasion, strikes. A hand grapples onto the end of his vest and he stiffens, knowing that neither Gundham nor Kaede would do such a thing.

Kokichi grins up at him, standing in front of Kaede and pretending like she wasn't just standing idly beside him beforehand. She sends him a dirty look; one that's overlooked because the supreme leader is purposefully ignoring her presence.

Rude.

( _Ungentlemanly._ )

"Hey, hey, hey." The voice makes Gonta's ears want to bleed. They don't, of course, but they're close to that point. He attempts to take a step away from the smaller one, but nearly bumps into Gundham, who makes a small noise of discomfort at the invasion of personal space—Gonta stops in his tracks and stares straight ahead. "Why don't we go play together, Gonta? Exploration is fun, don't you think?"

"No." Gonta grits out, attempting to shake Kokichi off. "No, it is _not._ "

( _Several people look over, wince at the sight and look away._ )

Kokichi immediately begins to pout, letting go of the taller's vest. "But you always liked going on explorations with me before..!"

"Before," Gonta adjusts his tie and puts on a faux smile, "before. Gonta wants to relax."

Sakura takes a step forward, obviously not tolerating the constant assault Gonta's undergoing—well, it's not assault. More like consistent pestering, the type of pestering that gets deep into your skin and makes you wish you were sitting on the sun and burning alive.

Yeah. Consistent pestering sounds right.

"If it'll sate your curiosity, I could accompany you." She offers, voice kind. Gonta feels bad for her, knowing how Kokichi would reply to such an offer:

He'd feign disinterest, say that he didn't want to play anymore and leave.

And, to no surprise, that's exactly what he did.

Kokichi deflates into a bored persona, pout disappearing and whimsical eyes falling into something far too close to a glare. "Nah, I don't wanna play anymore," is all he says before trotting away, hands crossed behind his back.

Gonta thinks he can hear Tenko chiding Kokichi, but it's too quiet for him to properly access her words. However, he does take note that Sakura and her have become acquaintances, judging by how the fighters strike up a conversation before turning heel and leaving elsewhere.

Huh. That's not surprising in the slightest. Tenko always gets along with girls—truly helps that Sakura, obviously, does more than just a little training. Both of them did fighting and stuff like that..

It seems like everyone's taken to do their own thing, with the exception of Pekoyama, Mahiru, Mondo and Chihiro. The swordswoman has joined the two by now, watching as they talk and construct what looks to be a flimsy sandcastle. Mahiru is on standby, occasionally adding in her own quips and glancing over at the doors to see if someone will come through them.

Gonta can only hope that Mikan's doing alright, or will, at the very least manage to drag her herself out of her current slump. In the meanwhile..

Kaede places a hand on Gonta, almost doing the same to Gundham before realizing that he _probably_ shouldn't be touched. For two reasons; his crows and the fact that he made it known that others shouldn't touch him, no matter what. The discomfort from an invasion of personal space made that much known.

She smiles all the same, and it's a nice look on her. A look he didn't get to see too often because of her being framed and sent to her death because of Tsumigi's plot. He removes the blue-haired wonder from his mind, knowing that it's just hurting himself to think about those who aren't here, those who've conducted these horrid 'experiments' and led his friends and many others to their deaths.

( _Gonta misses Ryoma and Kiibo._ )

"Wanna go exploring together?" She asks, and Gundham tilts his head like an owl. "We'll have a smaller chance of running into Kokichi, I think, and we'll get to know each other better, too! I don't know about you, but I think the three of us can be really good friends!"

Gonta thinks he agreed before she finished her reasoning. Her smile was just so bright, and she means so well, that he can't necessarily see anything wrong with exploring with _her._ Gundham, on the other hand, only nods when she mentions that Kokichi won't be involved ( _for the most part, anyways_ ).

Good to know they all already have something in common. This'll go fine.

"Alrighty then!" Kaede links arms with Gonta and points forward, whereas Gundham tucks his hands into deep pockets and keeps his limbs to himself. "Whoa, is that a hotel?! Let's check that out first!"

There's still sand between Gonta's toes when they walk over grass to pavement to the entryway of a hotel larger than all of them combined. Gundham says something about it and Kaede fawns, whereas the tallest of them can only stare blankly.

( _He's kinda happy he doesn't need to lay on a sweat-soaked mattress tonight._ )

* * *

**__________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter Two: The Gift Of The Chrysanthemums - BEGIN**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 23**


	9. The Gift of The Chrysanthemums (Daily Life II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which emotions are difficult to manage.

The sun beats down on the trio gently, a nice contrast from the coolness of their previous surroundings. Gundham looks a little less pale and hasn't shivered _once,_ and Kaede is dancing along the pavement, spinning and holding her arms out and giggling like a little child. Occasionally, she'll stop spinning, reground herself and excitedly point at a new structure.

Gundham will then, after a moment of consideration and hesitance, explain the purpose of the structure. Kaede continues her spinning and erupts into giddy fawning as soon as his description is over; she gushes over the location a little more, voice laced with the delicate keys of a piano and claps her hands together.

Rinse and repeat. They've passed by several structures by now, one of which being some sort of store. It takes them a couple of minutes to finally have the will to stop moving; and, to no surprise, they stop in front of the store.

Gundham excuses himself and disappears into said store first, reemerging with a blue soda can. The words 'Blue Ram' are printed on the side in white cursive letters, signalling the brand's name. He swishes it around before explaining the MonoMono Machine that lied inside of it.

Gonta knows what a MonoMono Machine is. Kaede knows what a MonoMono Machine is. Neither of them stop Gundham from explaining what it is, for he looks a lot more relaxed than when they first stepped onto the beach.

They, respectively, spend thirty minutes tampering with the machine in question. It's a good time waster that comes with.. _decent_ rewards.

Kaede got a beret ( _among other things that were, questionably, stuffed inside the small piece of machinery_ ), Gundham was on standby with his previously acquired drink and Gonta.. well, he got two things; some pocket-sized sketchbook and some bunny apples. He could do without the book, especially with his current thoughts on death and murder at the moment, but the bunny apples tasted good.

There was also a frog. Why was there a frog? Why was it called 'Jabba the Frog'? What type of frog _is_ this? How is it alive after being inside that capsule for so long?

None of those questions mattered, because this frog is his new friend. Better than some robot spider that would, without a doubt, wake him up and give him night terrors with consistent beeping.

( _Really questioning why these things were in capsules.._)

( _.. He's asking too many questions about things that cannot be explained._ )

They loiter around the store for a long while—Gundham sips at his drink leisurely, Kaede adjusts a purple-pink beret on her head; one that matches her purple-pink and silver tailcoat; as she slurps some bubble tea and Gonta was chewing on some of Kaede's potato chips whilst tending to his new frog friend. He thinks about calling them 'Jumpy v.2', but decides against it and settles on something else.

"Gonta will call you.." The frog hops into his lap, patting around before going still. They stare off into nothingness while Gundham and Kaede converse among themselves. Gonta stares at the frog before placing another chip into his mouth, pulling his gaze away from the lax amphibian. ".. Jelly."

Gundham drains the last drops of his Blue Ram before looking at the frog—now affectionately named 'Jelly'—and Gonta. "Oh? Have you already bonded with your newly acquired beast? Color the supreme overlord impressed!"

Kaede gasps, having not seen the frog ( _after all, she'd been running around the store excitedly after acquiring her beret_ ). She skitters over, dropping down to a crouch and cooing at the little thing. "You got a frog in the machine!" Less of a question, more of a gleeful exclamation. Makes it all the better.

"Have you given your beast a name, Grandiose One?" Gundham settles down on his vacant side, one leg folding into his chest as he grins at the small amphibian. Jelly is indifferent about the amount of attention they're receiving, allowing Kaede to tentatively drag a finger along the slope of their back.

Ah. So _this_ was what it's like to have friends who both grant hospitality and indulge in your interests. Huh.

( _This is nice, even if the circumstances are not._ )

"Jelly," Gonta answers, and the frog turns abruptly to face him. Kaede makes a small noise of surprise and Gundham bursts into a cackle befitting for a cartoon villain. The frog leaps up his leg once before stilling again, croaking somewhere deep in their chest. "Oh, they react! Hello, Jelly."

The frog croaks again. They hop onto his lowered arm. Kaede claps, acting as if the frog had pulled off an incredible stunt. Gundham hesitates, but does the same, eyes flicking up to see his crows beginning to circle the poles standing tall beside the store.

One of them bumps into a speaker, and it fizzles to life; music begins to seep out of it, almost as if someone was _supposed_ to knock into it for such a phenomenon to occur.

* * *

_♩ ♫ ♬ ♩ ♫ ♬_

_"Sometimes, all I think about is you."_

_"Late nights in the middle of June."_

_"Heat waves been faking me out."_

_"Can't make you happier now."_

_♩ ♫ ♬ ♩ ♫ ♬_

* * *

Gonta blinks. Oh, there are words to accompany the beat. Wasn't expecting that one. The lyrics loop before descending into another set of assorted words that Gonta can't be bothered to engrave into his brain.

The song playing is one he hasn't heard before; he never really got the chance to listen to music, honestly; but it sounds quite nice. His current companions seem to enjoy it, too, swaying slightly or nodding their heads along with the beat. He catches Kaede mouthing some lyrics, swinging her fingers in time with the chorus' beat.

Gundham has relaxed significantly, be it because of the music or the relaxed atmosphere they'd collectively created. Regardless, it's still foolish to consider touching him, even in a casual manner. Personal space matters quite a lot and not everyone was as comfortable as Angie Gonta hones in on the lyrics a bit more before flushing, playing it off as the sun being far too considerate with ray distribution—the song is truly _something_. Doesn't help that he's lingered around Angie and he-who-shall-not-be-named long enough to properly understand some of the meaning behind it.

Well, it's mostly because he's been thinking about how he can't make everyone happy. Not even himself, even if he had two new friends—and a little more, because there was another and another after that—and a frog in his arsenal. He can't fathom the reason why he thought he could help everyone back then.

He really _was_ just a dumb, gullible dummy back then. Too loving, too trusting, too.. _stupid_.

( _The song's nice.. but it's really reminding him of a version of him he'd rather not revert back to._ )

( _Stupid bear, immediately toying with his emotions after handing them to him on a silver platter._ )

For a moment, he wonders where the music is coming from. Then it becomes blindingly clear that the sound originates from the intercoms standing high beside the store. They're not operated by one of Monokuma's little screens, but are more like speakers—someone's definitely in control of the playlist, of course, but there's _no screen._ Only a speaker that, most likely, will be used for announcements.

Among other things. There's also music. Nice music that only sent Gonta into a minor state of reflective nostalgia mixed with something else.

Okay, this was.. nice. This was nice. Kind of.

"Do you think there's a music center in there?" Kaede asks, still grinning and swaying to the beat of the song. She jumps to her feet, eyes twinkling. "Don't get me wrong; I _really_ like this song, but think about the possibilities later on! We could have a little show, or maybe even a concert if everyone's up for it!"

Gundham narrows his eyes, although his crows keep him from looking sinister. They hop on and off of his shoulders, taking to the air and flying circles around the three. They're far more comfortable in an open area like this. "I cannot recall there being a music center, but there is a specific.. locale that has a stage, if such a thing peaks your interest."

He hesitates for a moment. Then he finishes his sentence with the title he's given to Kaede based off their positive interactions thus far; ".. Piano Queen."

Gonta bites into a potato chip, licking his lips afterwards. That's the amount of time it takes for the positive girl to comprehend the new nickname/title.

The pianist gasps, slaps her hands onto her cheeks and whips her head to face the breeder. Then she beams at Gundham, a look that's been plastered on her face for the past hour or so, and begins to squeal, hopping up and down and spinning in-between all of that. "Piano Queen? _Piano Queen?!_ I'm the Piano Queen?!"

Gundham looks mildly panicked. He rises from his spot beside Gonta, holding his hands out and bristling. "Forgive my insolence, Lady Kaede; was that the incorrect thing to say?!"

Gonta huffs out a chuckle. He's just glad they're getting along well. Definitely better than having to deal with two people who butt heads more than they try to put them together. There were enough aggressive relationships forming between people; Taka and Tenko, Nagito and _everyone_ , Kokichi and _everyone.._

( _To no surprise, people are willing to stir up conflicts if they feel it's needed._ )

( _.. Everyone was better off dead. Nobody had their former social skills; everything was scattered._ )

( _That's awfully grim._ )

When Gonta comes back to his senses, Gundham and Kaede have solved the little misunderstanding and dropped back into 'casual' conversation. As casual as Gundham's long-winded dialogues can be, that is—he's just happy Kaede's as patient as always, taking the time to piece together the meanings of his words before replying. A shame that she was victim to a trick that was hinted at several times and never acted upon.

Until it was too late, that is. There was nothing to gain out of Tsumugi's death. Not on his half, not on Kiibo's half ( _selfless, he says to himself, he's selfless_ ) It was pointless, in a way.

A pointless, meaningless death that had no strings attached to anyone or anything. That was something to think about, surely, the idea that Tsumugi was another meaningless link in all of this ongoing torture. He cracks his knuckles to rid himself of the thought.

Cracking his knuckles doesn't do anything, but his frog companion does gently slap his vest and croak. It takes his mind off of things for the time being.

"Jelly appears to be fond of you," Gundham pipes up. One of his crows nudges his nape before taking flight; likely a show of affection or the like, judging by the fleeting fond expression on the breeder's face. Kaede visibly suppresses a giggle at the sight. "Perhaps you should grant them a title befitting of their loyalty! There is no better gift than the gift of validation!"

"Maybe free food. Free food is pretty high on the list in my opinion!" Kaede chirps. Gundham pauses, soon deciding to nod slowly. What a nice, simple way to come to an agreement.

If only things had been as simple as that back then, when people weren't _intimidated_ by his burly structure. Maybe he'd have a chance to befriend more people like Shuichi, people who didn't care about Kokichi or Angie's manipulative scheme and didn't force themselves to murder when the mastermind was standing among them, feigning innocence whilst being deliberately _horrible_ at her fucking job.

Gonta blinks slowly. Whoa. That.. was an aggressive thought.

( _Too much change, too much hate, too much emotion_; _he can't handle this, how can he possibly handle this?_ )

The frog croaks. Gonta feels a little lighter than before. He considers Gundham's words instead, wanting to cleanse his mind for a few seconds; a few seconds, that's all he's asking for, it's not much. It'll keep him sane for a second longer, let him have this.

He needs this. He doesn't know if he deserves it, but he _needs_ it.

"Gundham come up with one." Gonta decides, leaning against the warming wall of bricks and cobblestone behind him. A nice contrast from the coldness he felt whenever he padded around the dining hall, or simply wandered the hallways in a blind search of someone to trust. "Gonta bad with names."

Gundham looks humorously surprised. "W-well," he clears his throat to cover up a stutter ( _it doesn't work_ ), "I shall take you up on your offer, Grandiose One! Your loyal 'Jelly' shall be dubbed.."

He takes a step forward, dropping onto a knee and scrutinizing the frog. Said amphibian is unfazed, clambering along Gonta's arm and settling on his gloved hand. Their throat bubbles up and another croak seeps out from their lungs. ".. The Encroaching Yellow Bee!"

Jelly hops a little before, yet again, croaking. Gundham preens. Kaede claps from the sidelines, gleeful and happy to be a part of the experience. At least she's happy—Gonta could be better, but this wasn't about bettering his mental health. Not right now, anyways, because he was already practicing self-care by staying away from his past tormentor and cause of death.

( _The trauma never ends._ )

( _Pity._ )

The music continues to seep out of speakers above them, subtly mocking Gonta ( _and others, undoubtedly_ ) and his previous beliefs. A pity, truly, that they can't quite grasp the method of changing the songs.

He'd like to do that, spare himself from having an emotional breakdown over obtaining more emotions than he's had the displeasure of dealing with in the first place.

Rage is not pretty. He hates it, but quickly realizes the fault in that reasoning; he cannot hate, he refuses to hate, but he already hates so much.

Gonta cares less than he used to. Gundham and Kaede's triumphant chatter is the only thing that he can bring himself to care about, and he fixates on that for the next hour or so. Jelly, the 'Encroaching Yellow Bee', spends that time hopping along him like a plant. A burly plant that'd deeply rooted in something like dirt, if only harsher.

A burly plant rooted in debris and concrete, but existing and hating that it exists.

Kaede flashes a smile at him and Gundham barks at a crow that lands on his head. Gonta thinks they're all smiling. He thinks that he'll be okay for a little while longer.

* * *

_♩ ♫ ♬ ♩ ♫ ♬_

_"You just need a better life than this."_

_"You need something I can never give."_

_"Fake water all across the road."_

_"It's gone, now the night has come, but—"_

_♩ ♫ ♬ ♩ ♫ ♬_

* * *

**｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENTS OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**KAEDE AKAMATSU & GUNDHAM TANAKA's Report Cards have been updated.**

* * *

When Gonta said he 'didn't want to explore', he was right. Even in the company of his two new favorite people—when Kirumi was out of the question, that is, because he trusts that woman with his life and a little more—he managed to exhaust himself. His skin had soaked in the sun's rays greedily, having felt malnourished and unhappy in the coldness supplied by the previous locale, and his throat was dry.

Ah. He was parched. How long had they been reclining in the sun, bathing in it like it was normal for the lot of them?

( _He was surprised that Gundham kept his dark attire on the entire time.._ )

Gundham had pursued the MonoMono Machine and retrieved a drink for him ( _after rummaging through the store and knocking several items over; 'to find currency', he said, trampling over a stool and nearly elbowing the cash register right off it's hinges_ ), but he hadn't drank any of it. Maybe he should do that.

He pulls the cap off of the bottle of mineral water, tilting it back and chugging at least half of it in a thirsty haze. It only parts from his lips when he manages to choke on it, beginning to beat his chest as Kaede pats his back as hard as she can.

She's obviously hesitating, seemingly scared to harm him, and Gundham calls her out on it. The two exchange a healthy bout of playful banter as a result, and Gonta nearly chokes again, if only on a small chuckle this time.

He's exhausted, but in a good way. Another swig of mineral water and it's all gone. A shame, truly, albeit he's glad his throat is no longer dry and close to restricting his voice. Jelly is seated inside of his bug box, remaining still and compliant as they're walked around by their new owner.

Owner. That doesn't sound nice. Gonta doesn't like that word. It's no good and he doubts he'll even _utter_ the word without Gundham turning on him and beginning to rant on about the beasts 'having no need to comply to the words of a mere mortal such as himself'.

Gonta was ( _kind_ _of_ ) sure they were past the 'mere mortal' phase, even after a day, but he couldn't be sure. He didn't want to mess anything up.

.. Big friend. Big friend; yeah, that's much better. Big friend. What a nice title to have.

The breeder holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sunlight, prompting Kaede to do the same. He narrows his eyes, the seriousness of his stance withering away with every squawk that comes from his overhead crows, before bursting into a wild grin.

He's been doing that a lot lately. This was the fifth time. Gonta had enough space in his head to count up to twenty-six, but it was only the fifth time. Anything above twenty-six was pushing it and required the decimation of leftover thoughts.

Gonta didn't know how to control his thoughts like that. It was not an option, so twenty-six was the limit. Maybe it would change. Maybe it wouldn't. He doesn't know anything about the things that inhabit the depths of his brain. He'd like to keep it that way, quite frankly.

"There!" Gundham hops to his feet, already rushing forward. "I've sighted possible recruits for our adventuring campaign!" Kaede yelps at the sudden outburst, but immediately chases after the layered male with a small squeak after stumbling over her dress shoes. Gonta remains idle, watching the two rush over toward another bulky figure and a far smaller one.

Ah, it's Sakura and Chihiro. What a surprise, concerning the latter of the two was last sighted on the _other_ side of the island, crafting sand castles with Mondo, Pekoyama and Mahiru. Gonta wonders where they are.

( _Maybe they're dead._ )

Gonta proceeds to stop wondering where they are. It's in his best interest.

Begrudgingly, Gonta takes this as a chance to put a stop to their exploring. For a while, anyways, because he was willing to follow the three for more than a handful of hours if it meant he got to stay away from Kokichi. Chihiro spots him quickly, waving their arms at him excitedly.

Their sleeves are rolled up to their shoulders, jacket shed and sweater pulled down slightly to keep their body from overheating. A smart tactic, he must admit, although he'd prefer a swimsuit to making his vest and shirt wrinkly. Kirumi would have a ball cleaning them, sure, but it didn't sit well with him anymore.

"Ah, hello, Gonta!" Gonta thinks about Kokichi for a second, being referred to in such a sense, and realizes that he's starting to develop trauma over his _first name._ What the fuck. "Er—Gokuhara-kun, I mean.. are you sure I can call you by your first name?"

No, not really. "Yeah," he says. "Gonta thinks Fujisaki-san can."

Sakura is nearby, and seems to sense the distress in Gonta's tone; it's there, just barely, but it's there and it's gradually making itself smaller in order to hide away from the others. He doesn't want to be a burden, but this is a little more than a self-destructive method. Trauma over the sound of his first name.. stupid, absolutely absurd, _what the fuck is wrong with him?_

( _His thoughts are beginning to upset him. He is upset with himself._ )

"You're not obligated to go by your first name, Gokuhara-kun." Sakura speaks up, voice soft and reassuring—a complete contrast from her muscled appearance, but Gonta knew she was a good person. She _is_ a good person. He keeps thinking about dead people and, for the sake of his deteriorating mental health, should stop doing that. "You can come up with a nickname, something that makes you comfortable."

Chihiro's eyes light up at the brief mention of a nickname. Gonta chooses not to make a rebuttal, if only because the tinier figure before him looks extremely elated to have a chance to craft a nickname for him. He may not be able to make everyone happy, but he'll make someone happy.

_Someone_ has to be happy because of him. It's a matter of obtaining validation in one of it's many forms.

Gundham was right. There's no better gift than the gift of validation. What a shame.

His mental health really _is_ in shambles. Who would've guessed?

Everyone. Anyone. He wasn't good at hiding the small winces or grimaces that'd come up whenever someone said 'Gonta' or 'fire' or _'Kokichi'_. He wasn't going to start now; he was _exhausted_ and he wasn't wasting energy on something that would, inevitably, come to light regardless of what he did.

Yet, Gonta still manages to hide the more delicate parts of himself. Somehow, someway, acting as if _those_ won't come to light, too.

He likes being suspended in a fantasy where things are slightly okay. Slightly, not moderately, not completely. Slightly.

"Oh! I can call you.." Chihiro thinks for a second, and Gonta realizes that he's been staring at them aimlessly whilst they were listing off nickname ideas. For a moment, he feels bad, but compares the necessity of a nickname to the necessity of an empty cabin and no longer feels bad. He needs more sleep.

Exhaustion and moderate-to-severe depression are not a good mix, he realizes. Apathy only worsens it, as does the lingering _emotions_ sitting in the back of his skull, humming a tune of the past that he doesn't want to recite. He can't recite it. He doesn't _want_ to recite it.

Sakura's regarding him with a slightly concerned expression, but her attention is drawn away by the likes of Kaede and Gundham—less people to get attached to. Makes it better, because he was beginning to form a friendship with Mukuro before she was outed as a murderer and _slaughtered like a sheep—_

"Bug-kun!" Chihiro looks triumphant and Gonta forces himself to stop zoning out. "Yeah, that sounds good—are you alright with that, Gon—Gokuhara-kun?" He half-expected his new acquaintance to refer to his by his first name—and they almost did, but they caught themselves before he started getting more intrusive thoughts—and remains silent for a prolonged period of time.

Then, after snapping his glove against his wrist and regaining control over his muscles and bones, he smiles. His eyes do not crinkle and the smile is far too small for someone with as big of a heart as his.

( _His heart might as well shrivel up and d—_ )

The thought is incomplete. It will not be completed.

( _Thinking is exhausting. Gonta should stop thinking._ )

"Gonta fine with that," he says, name sounding nasty on his tongue. Even if nobody else says it, his strange relationship with illeism continues to make his life far more difficult than it has to be. He feels like removing his voice-box, but decides that he'd probably kill himself in the process of doing that. Definitely not a good idea, primarily because he had a frog to take care of and Gundham and Kaede and _Kirumi_ would mourn him.

It was a stretch, but he trusts those three in particular. He trusts Kaito and Tenko and a lot of others, too, but hasn't necessarily _hung out_ with them. Therefore, he is incapable of wagering whether or not they're actually good people. At this point, anyone could be a bad person and it'd take him a long while of torment and trauma-inducing antics to deduce such a thing.

Well, back then, at least. It all depends on if you're willing to murder someone for your own benefit.

( _Gonta doesn't trust himself._ )

All while Gonta's having an emotional turmoil, Chihiro is unaware and cheering on about the new nickname. 'Cute,' they call it, even if Gonta feels like retching at the mere thought of his name popping up in the back of his throat. Then they're asking if he wants to play around in the sand while his other friends are busying themselves with attempting to train with Sakura.

Gonta sees Kaede fall into the sand and beat the ground in faux frustration. He sees Gundham stop, inform his crows to do something _other_ than swoop down periodically and check to see if Kaede is alright. The both of them end up throwing sand at each other. Sakura is a patient teacher.

Gonta learns nothing from making a sandcastle with Chihiro. Nothing important; sand gets under your nails if you try hard enough, it sticks to your feet like glitter when you're _not_ trying hard enough and sandcastles are surprisingly easy to create.

He _does_ learn that Chihiro likes the beach, and wishes they could've been on one before this. Gonta resonates with them heavily.

"I hope you don't mind me rambling."

That was the only warning Gonta got, and he missed his opportunity to say, 'yes, Gonta minds rambling, _please don't ramble_.'

Five minutes of peace. That's all he gets. Five _fucking_ minutes, and then his brain registers everything spilling from the other's mouth and forces it upon him in heavy, oozing clumps.

"When I die again," Chihiro chirps while attempting to make a flag with a broken branch and a tattered leaf, "I don't think I'll get a gravestone. I never got to change the world, y'know? Because I decided that Hope's Peak was a nice place and that I could trust someone.."

"Then I died." They stab the branch through the leaf before placing it atop of one of Gonta's sand mounds. "Quite honestly, I don't think I deserve a gravestone. 'm not great enough for one of those."

Rounded, whimsical eyes glance up at him. He hates the innocence in them, shrouded with a thin veil of deeply-rooted aggravation, resentment and anguish. Chihiro is aware of what they're saying and open their mouth to speak again: "How about you, Bug-kun? What're your thoughts?"

Gonta stares blankly at them. He doesn't understand where this emotional baggage came from, but he's not intrigued. He's not surprised, either, because everyone has their own trauma.

That does not mean he wants to become a therapist, however, and he glances away from them. Chihiro stops talking about death after that.

They finish the sandcastle after approximately five minutes. It's dingy, sure, but it's good enough from a distance and the constantly encroaching waves don't reach it, so it's a win in Gonta's book. They exchange goodbyes, concerning the fact that Gundham and Kaede were unsuccessful in attempting to bring Sakura along with them, and part ways.

Gonta is incapable of digesting what he was told. Perhaps it's better that he _didn't_ digest such things. He had enough to worry about; a traumatized therapist didn't sound like a good occupation in hindsight.

( _.. Did Gonta and Chihiro get closer?_ )

* * *

**｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**CHIHIRO FUJISAKI's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

Gonta is significantly more exhausted than before. This time, it's not because of the exploring. Well, maybe the exploring plays a part in his exhausting, but it's also because the sun is setting over the horizon and it's beginning to grow cold. Gonta doesn't like being cold.

He's been cold for a long time. Some warmth would be nice, even if he soaked up most of the sun's rays whilst it was still out and about. The entomologist already misses laying in the shade, occasionally stretching out in order to keep himself from getting _too_ cool.

His bug box hasn't moved since Chihiro informed him on their opinion of whether or not they were deserving of a gravestone. With a quick glance, it's clear as day that Jelly is sound asleep. They do not beep. They're alive and breathing and don't have a camera integrated in their eyeballs. They're okay.

Gonta doesn't want to crush another 'animal'. He doesn't know if his scrambled mind can take another blow like that. Not when he's _this_ close to stumbling into a pole and collapsing on the ground in a broken, bristled heap.

Kaede pulls him to the side to avoid a podium. Gundham leads the way, marching through the darkness and making sure nobody's creeping about in the shadows; when he does see someone, it's Nekomaru, and the two greet one another with a mere nod.

The other burly male grins brightly in Kaede and Gonta's direction, even slapping a hand on the latter's back and letting out a loud greeting. Kaede is visibly frazzled by the end of his shouting, only to yelp when it starts up again. The coach stomps off somewhere, presumably his own cabin, yelling a 'goodnight' at the top of his lungs before disappearing from view.

Gundham clears his throat and continues toward the cabins. "Nekomaru is naturally loud. His affection for others is stored in the lungs, you see." He explains briefly, passing by a cabin with a firetruck plastered beneath the door's number; number three, it says, and Gonta narrows his eyes in annoyance.

Lots of numbers, lots of numbers. They don't go over twenty-six, but _numbers_. He doesn't like them. They shouldn't even be numbered, but even Monokuma has a need to withhold an aesthetic. For _whatever_ reason.

Gonta decides that, like most things, he doesn't want to know about Monokuma's exterior and interior design decisions. Some things are better left buried and lost and _forgotten for years and years to come._

Ah. Chihiro's gravestone talk has sparked new thoughts. Wonderful. Just what he needed; more thoughts, more things to _think about_ when his brain was already near the start of combustion. Beautiful.

"I.. think I see my cabin." Kaede looks to 'her' current residence; number thirteen, and a noose looming over a piano with a blackened figure hangs beneath the silver plate. Gonta grits his teeth at the hideous memory resurfacing, aware of the way Gundham grimaces, aware of the way Kaede's gaze drops to her feet. Her beret nearly slips off her head, but she catches it and squeezes it.

Her knuckles whiten. She lifts her head, inhales deeply and turns to smile at the boys. It doesn't reach her eyes, but it's close enough to be considered genuine. Better than anything Gonta could put out at the moment, concerning how tired and exhausted and _uncomfortable_ he was with the sun disappearing and reducing his surroundings to a cold, barren wasteland.

They've been reduced to the states they'd been in when they first stepped onto the beach.

The intercom above crackles to life, but it startles nobody. It's expected, even if it echoes throughout the entire locale and leaves some people; people who were trying to sleep-in for the entire afternoon and the time after that; waking up in the middle of a nightmare and proceeding to lay there, dormant and lifeless and _tired_ in every sense of the word.

Gonta thinks that's how it works. He thinks, because he doesn't know if his current sleeping patterns are normal.

* * *

_"Mm, ahem, this is a school announcement. It is now 10 p.m. As such, it is officially **nighttime**. Soon the doors to the dining hall will be locked, and entry at that point is strictly prohibited. Okay then.. sweet dreams, everyone! Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite..."_

* * *

Ah. Time flies a little too fast for Gonta's liking.

"Well, goodnight!" Kaede turns and leaves them to their devices, hands still tightened and pale around her won accessory. She doesn't say 'see you tomorrow' or 'catch you in the morning' or anything like that. It's depressing.

Gundham continues to walk. He's taken on a slouch, and Gonta feels bad when he spots his cabin out of the corner of his eye. He feels even worse when he has to _announce it_. "Ah, Gonta's cabin—"

The breeder waves him off, not even looking over his shoulder. There's no trace of the excited and humorously villainous male he'd been hanging around all day—just someone who was exhausted and ready to collapse, much like himself.

Nobody had gotten over the death of Ibuki, it would seem. Tenko was the only one who mourned Mukuro, from what he knew. Nobody knew Mukuro. Tenko knew her for an hour, maybe.

Gonta wonders if Mikan is okay, but he eradicates the thought immediately. She has to be okay. If she's not okay, then nothing is okay anymore because _someone's not okay and he can't do anything about it._

The thought stops there. Kirumi might help her, or Pekoyama or Mahiru. Someone who knew Mikan, maybe. Maybe, just maybe, Gonta didn't need to help someone.

Strange. It's so strange, but it makes _sense_ , and he doesn't want it to make sense.

Gonta thinks about the song that'd been playing whilst they were all having a good time. The meaning slams into him like a pile of bricks and he bites his tongue. He clenches his fists as Gundham continues to walk, soon making a turn and disappearing behind the cover of one of the buildings. Gonta doesn't see him again, for he can't handle the cold much longer and marches toward his own cabin.

It's warmer there, but it's not a home. It will _never_ be a home, and he knows that, even as he locks the door behind him, sheds his clothes and topples onto the bed with a pained noise. He's not in physical pain, but his head hurts and he's beginning to see Mukuro's dead body whenever he blinks for the umpteenth time. This is not a home.

_It's nothing like a home._

Sometimes, he'll stare at the bug box sitting on his new nightstand. The frog remains asleep at all times, and doesn't beep. He listens closely, but there is no beeping. Just the silence engulfing him with the occasional, minor creaking of his mattress whenever he shifts for a better, slightly more comfortable position.

He's not comfortable, but he is warm. That's what matters in the end.

( _When it comes down to it, he'll probably never be comfortable._ )

Gonta forces his covers over his body, stuffs his hands into his pillowcase and clenches his eyes shut. Mukuro is settled behind his eyelids, seared there for an eternity, remaining dormant in that chair; tied up, bloodied and _dead_.

He does not sleep peacefully, but he does sleep.

It's depressing. Very, very depressing, and he can't do anything about it. No one can.

* * *

**__________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter Two: The Gift Of The Chrysanthemums - PART TWO**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 23**

**Gundham Tanaka's Report Card Update:**

_Although the two; Gonta and Gundham; spent the night looking through his lab, the two managed to have a decent time with Kaede during the initial transfer to another area. Regardless, their respective emotions are still eating away at them, and they part silently when nightfall comes. A shame that neither of them are sure enough to properly enjoy themselves. What a pity.._

**Kaede Akamatsu's Report Card Update:**

_Kaede and Gonta managed to bond over their mutual liking of the MonoMono Machine and a frog named 'Jelly'. Not only that, but they spent the entire time exploring with Gundham as their primary guide. Regardless, their respective emotions are still eating away at them, and they part depressingly when nightfall comes. Guess there's no hope existing between the two of them. What a pity.._

**Chihiro Fujisaki's Report Card Update:**

_For someone so petite and nice-looking, Chihiro harbors dark and.. well, depressing thoughts. They came up with a nickname for Gonta to make him more comfortable, but it's a bit futile when you start talking about death and abruptly ask someone for their opinion on whether they should be given a gravestone or not. Seems like everyone's trauma just comes in different flavors.._


	10. The Gift of The Chrysanthemums (Daily Life III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is no time for prolonged peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha happy b-day, gundham <3

_"Good morning, everyone! It is now 7 a.m. and **nighttime** is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beee-yutiful day!"_

* * *

Gonta would've woken up regardless of the announcement. Sleeping in wasn't much of an option anymore, as far as he knew. The anxiety and depression and _dead bodies tattooed inside his eyelids_ made sleep difficult.

He'd never rest easy, he supposes. Maybe it was for the best.

If he was capable of sleeping soundly in his past life, then no, this wasn't for the best. It was the complete opposite and he was denying that. Not like he'd go on to correct that mistake.

Still groggy, Gonta throws a hand over his eyes. He really doesn't want to get up, not when they went more than a day without a motive announcement. Something told him that it'd be administered today and, within the next twenty four hours, someone would be dead.

That's how it went before. Hours to four days of peace before someone was murdered and executed shortly afterwards. That's how it always went, Gonta recalled that much, and he absolutely hated having to exist with the knowledge that someone close to him would die.

Maybe a certain someone would die. Wouldn't help the trauma or anything, but _maybe_. He was really considering the possibilities, which were impossibly high due to.. well, he was unloved, wasn't he? Gonta was one, if not the only person who attempted to understand him.

At first, anyways. Didn't work out.

That was quite obvious.

The entomologist turns his head to the side, arm still draped over the side of his face. It's far from a comfortable position, but he's flexible enough to keep his arm stationary, so he can't be bothered to move. Besides, his comfort is the least of his concerns. Because of his current angle, a certain little frog—still settled in the bug box, acting as if they'd lived there before—is now staring right back at him.

Jelly's eyes are large, nonjudgmental. They appear to be staring off into the distance, albeit's difficult to deduct such a thing because of how they're facing Gonta in such a straightforward manner.

They hop once. Gonta decides that's how they've chosen to greet him today; he manages a small, weary smile that won't appear later into the day. It's a smile that was only made because, for a moment, he's forgotten his troubles and indulged in the lax presence of the tiny creature.

He appreciates them a lot. He's only had them for one day, but he'd _die_ for them.

( _Another excuse. Death is just an easy way out for him, really, but he doesn't want to die._ )

( _He hasn't dug that hole. Not yet._ )

Gonta's brain reels him back in fairly quickly. Upsetting that he couldn't remain in that relaxed, happy state for a moment longer—perhaps he'd be able to create some faux-like copy of it, given the time to properly access the euphoric emotions. Alas, he was still relearning many things, one of which being; of course; _emotions_.

How unfortunate. The lovable, stupid and bulky character doesn't know his emotions—he's uncomfortable with the idea of love, he's no longer _that_ stupid and.. well, he's still quite bulky.

However, he has considered murdering someone with this bulk, so that was a definite change. He'd never thought of hurting someone prior to his original death. Prior to the Miu incident, prior to allowing himself to be tricked and manipulated by someone he shouldn't have trusted in the first place.

Gonta barely keeps himself from bashing his head against the headboard of his bed. The idea of splitting his head in half is awfully tantalizing.

He really doesn't want to get out of bed, albeit he's sure Monokuma will force him out of his abode. Aggravated eyes squint at the word; abode.

As if this was some sort of _home_ to him. Perish the thought of never leaving this hellhole.

The entomologist throws his legs over the side of his— _the_ bed, it doesn't belong to him, he doesn't want this to become _normal_ for him. If he had any control over what happened in this killing game, then he simply asks for this to _never become the norm._ That's all he's asking.

Then, at the same time, he might just ask for a reason why Mukuro killed someone. During the trio's exploration, they stumbled upon Tenko—she wasn't consolable, by any means, and was obviously still processing the deaths.

Didn't mean she didn't say anything, though: " _Mukuro hates the mastermind,_ " she had sniffled, although she'd straightened herself to look bitter and strong and it was terrible to look at, " _a-and told me that she'd never participate in this game.. so why? Why did she do that? She.. she was so nice to me.._ "

Gonta's guilt worsened. Tenko was the reason why Mukuro stayed in his dreams, apart from the gruesome, mutilated state her corpse had been left in.

It was bad enough that none of the three—not Gonta, not Gundham, not Kaede—could provide a valid answer. Not like Tenko was searching them for one, though, because she immediately turned away and clenched her fists. Through her teeth, she'd grit out low curses, hissing out Celeste's name without a single fragment of joy.

Tenko likes all women.

Tenko _liked_ all women. She has a particular distaste for one. Just one.

( _Celeste has already made a negative impact on her, huh.._ )

Gonta swings his feet around a little, noting the numbness. He'd been folding them beneath himself for the past few hours, it would seem, rendering them lacking in the blood department. A shame, really, because he didn't want to move whilst blood was rushing back to that specific part of his body.

It's uncomfortable. He wants to move, but, at the same time, this is giving him an excuse to stay put. To risk being dragged across the beach by either Monokuma or someone he happens to trust.

His numb feet are still quite uncomfortable. He closes his eyes and cringes as blood seeps into them; slowly, gradually. Too slow, too gradual, and he shakes his feet to speed up the process. It doesn't work.

At least they're less uncomfortable than the thoughts settled in the back of his head. Those were just downright _horrid_.

Begrudgingly, he allows his mind to wander as he stumbles off of the mattress, legs aching and remnants of drool lingering on his parted lips. He releases a yawn, followed by the cracking of his back and his neck, among other stiffened parts of his body.

The day before, when they were all released on the beach like a band of butterflies freed from a jar, was hectic. It was uncomfortable, comfortable, loathing and so many other things that Gonta didn't know he could understand, didn't know he could _comprehend._

To imagine, he'd grasp a taste of happiness, of being content, all for his thoughts and Chihiro's ramblings to bring him down to what he'd been shortly after coming to terms with the fact that, yes, he was manipulated under the guise of 'friendship' and 'mercy' because he was a gullible idiot. Ibuki and Mukuro's deaths were just the tip of the iceberg, because he knew someone else would die shortly after today.

There's always time to think, time to create friendships and bonds with others moments before they're torn away from you. That's what made this so entertaining for Monokuma, because it didn't care about emotions.

It just wants despair, and breaking the bond between loved ones was just one way of doing it. Perhaps that's the reason why Mukuro committed murder, even if she claimed that she'd never take part in such a scheme again after the first time.

Maybe she _wanted_ to be ratted out. After all, it wasn't like she attempted to clean up the trail that led to her room, nor did she attempt to save herself.

Gonta reckons she just wanted to die, but knew nobody would cave in and kill her. So, with that in mind, she took the harsher option; execution.

But Ibuki didn't want to die, shown by the obvious signs of struggling and fighting. Ibuki.. wanted to live and get out, based off of what little he'd heard from the real her, not just some fabrication of cotton and stolen clothing, during the beginning of it all. She'd waved her arms about, hopping and weaving through the crowd and jutting a thumb to her chest.

 _"Ibuki Mioda!_ " She had cheered, and several people—Mikan, Pekoyama, Sayaka, _several people_ —looked to her and smiled and felt comforted by her loudness. She did a jig and grinned proudly, thumb still on her chest as it heaved from the mild exhaustion that followed. " _Ibuki's gonna make sure everyone's alright n' dandy; gonna run a big ol' show for everyone here, alright?!_ "

That was the first and last time Gonta had seen Kiyotaka, their current _leader_ relax. He was on edge now, shoulders stiff and posture never faltering, even if he were to run on the rare occasion.

It was only a matter of time before he'd be struck by the very thing that brought Kaede and Rantaro here—playing the role of a murderer or becoming the victim, the latter being far more appealing for someone like Taka.

Kiyotaka is capable of murder, if pushed far enough. Maybe someone could manipulate him into an accidental murder, or claim that it'd help with low moral. Taka was as smart as he was gullible, especially for assuming role as the leader over this bunch.

It takes the entomologist a second to realize what he'd been thinking. The same thing as before, _the same thing as before_.

Gonta wishes he never thought about it, about any of this, but he's already tugging on some pants and contemplating if he wanted to take another shower.

This just feels like a routine. Think about horrible things, feel horrible then go about your day, feeling horrible.

Yeah, that's a routine. What kind of idiot devotes a prolonged portion of their time, of their _life,_ to mope around and be pessimistic?

Gonta sneezes into his elbow.

Just as he manages to button up his vest, he hears a distant croak from his current companion. He'd been expecting complete and utter silence, far too used to the primarily quiet and dissociative insects that once flocked to him. Once, when they were sentient and real and swarming all of his 'friends' because of some elaborate scheme.

Jelly is real, he reminds himself, not wanting to reach into the box and crush the frog. Jelly is real and, as of right, nothing can convince him otherwise.

As of right. His thought process is subject to change. Everything about him is subject to change.

Amidst the thoughts of Jelly and their sentience, another comes to light—unsurprisingly, of course, because Gonta thinks too much and feels too much and is significantly worse than he was before all of this. He was better when he didn't have a grasp on any emotions other than smitten, caring and happy.

( _He wishes he couldn't hate. He wishes he couldn't think. Wishes do nothing for anyone here._ )

( _They had their chance to wish. They took it. It did nothing._ )

( _It was worthless._)

Gonta pinches the bridge of his nose before putting on his glasses. The flowers wrapped around the temples and tips weep gently, oozing the wet scent of pollen. He sniffs again, glad that he's not allergic to it. Maybe he is allergic to it. Maybe he's not allergic.

Gonta doesn't know what it's like to be allergic. He understands nothing.

Not knowing anything, doesn't keep himself from wondering if Monokuma's shenanigans will continue. They'll continue, they always continue, in every horrible way possible. Even if it's as small as some music playing to being dragged away from your loved one because you wanted to kill someone.

He wonders if he'll be subjected to the same song from yesterday. Maybe Monokuma has another trick up its sleeve. Either that, or it's biding its time and waiting for another catastrophe to take place.

By that, he's just sugarcoating the word 'death'; for who's sake, he doesn't know, because it's far too late for it to be for his sake. He already watched someone get executed. He _died_ before this. Too late for anything to be for his sake.

Not only that, but he's not the only person in shambles. Surely he wasn't the only person experiencing foreign feelings, right? Chihiro seemed to be taking their fair share of emotions negatively, rambling on and on about gravestones when they _definitely_ hadn't been doing that on the first day. Kiyotaka looked far more exhausted than ever the last time Gonta saw him, too.

He's not the only person who's emotions are in shambles. However, for the sake of getting outside and putting something in his stomach—even if he was telling himself that he wasn't hungry and didn't need to eat, as he hadn't eaten anything for 'dinner' the day prior—he paused those thoughts.

For now, anyways. They'd come back in due time.

"Hello, Jelly," Gonta mutters. His greeting is late, he knows that, but it's better than not greeting the entity at all. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, they're still just a frog. An intelligent frog, but a frog nonetheless.

They don't react apart from croaking and hopping to the side. Gonta doesn't know what he was expecting.

Gonta fixes his belt and sighs. There's nothing keeping him from going outside—nothing regarding his appearance, anyways, because nobody would question why his hair was so messy. It was always like that, so he had an excuse.

Kirumi would probably ask about it, but she's not one to pry. If he says something that's only a fragment of the truth, she'll take it and change the subject with the grace of a scarab beetle. She's deserving of her title as the Ultimate Maid, that's for sure.

However, Gonta doesn't know if he can be the Ultimate Entomologist after this. Not when he, without hesitation, crushed something that resembled a little spider friend. Monokuma truly wasn't holding back with the torment factors this time around..

Gonta eyes Jelly warily. They're still, staring off into the distance. He adjusts his necktie before approaching the nightstand, picking up the item and slinging it over his shoulder. He hears his companion make a noise of protest, but that's the least of his concerns.

He should probably feed them.

( _... He has to go outside, if only to keep the frog alive. Darn._ )

Gonta touches the bug box gently—he hesitates. It's not really a 'bug box' anymore, now is it? There are no bugs inside of it, only a speckled frog named 'Jelly' with the ability to give vague replies. Gonta is capable of understanding them to an extent, yes, but that's the issue. They don't say anything.

The entomologist hesitates again. Then he's huffing and patting the box, causing Jelly to croak and hop a little. They do nothing else afterwards.

".. Frog box," is all he says before tightening the sash over his shoulder and taking a step away from the nightstand. There's no crumbled remains beneath his feet this time, and he doesn't know if he's happy or sick at the thought of Jumpy's 'corpse'.

As he takes a couple more steps toward the door, he sees something golden out of the corner of his eye—two golden things, not like he remembered based off his previous surroundings. Everything has been moved to this cabin, but those weren't there before.. right? He wouldn't know, because he collapsed on the bed last night without addressing his surroundings properly.

He turns his head a little more to the side, and regret washes over him like a waterfall. It's not long before he's turning forward again, reaching for the knob and twisting it, nearly tearing it off its hinges due to how tense he was at that very moment.

The toilet trophy was still there, freshly polished and glistening under the sun's rays. Beside it stands one of a magnifying glass, one that's frame is just one giant, empty hole. Gonta understands what Monokuma is trying to do and isn't having any of it.

Quite frankly, it's beginning to annoy him. He realizes that he doesn't like being annoyed. The feeling is a little too much for him, a little too close to hatred.

With that in mind, Gonta finally steps outside. It's not as refreshing as it was before. If anything, it's the equivalent of how he felt when he stepped out of the classroom and trailed after Kirumi to the _first_ dining hall. There was no way they'd have access to the old building during their time here. Not unless Monokuma allowed it, of course, but that was unlikely.

That was made apparent by their rounds yesterday—they'd gone back to the beginning, only to be met with a boarded up door and some sort of beast patrolling the perimeters around it. Gundham warded them away from said beast before the situation could escalate, and they simultaneously agreed that they wouldn't attempt to check out the old building again.

Gonta wonders if he could get mauled by the beast. He stops the thought immediately, as that wasn't the quickest death this place could offer. He'd prefer a swift, quick death in comparison to an execution. Anything that'd put an end to it quickly.

He feels like going back inside already. His thoughts have only ran him over like a freight train at this point, and it was all because he'd taken a single step outside. Nothing has happened apart from that, and he's already caving.

Kind of pathetic, actually.

A familiar figure, one he should've expected to see at this time of day ( _what was the time, anyways?_ ), halts in her tracks upon noticing him. She then hurries over, and Gonta squares his shoulders as Kirumi addresses him with a blank stare. There is warmth in there, warmth that he wants to drown in for a moment, but he draws himself away from it in favor of actually speaking to her.

Kirumi didn't miss a beat. She smiles tiredly, her expression the only sign that she had been up longer than the others. "Good morning, Gokuhara-kun. Nice to see you up and early for once." She looks over the bridges looming over small pools of water, eyes beginning to droop before she straightens up. Her posture is tight and stiff.

It reminds him of Kiyotaka. He wishes that she wasn't one of the leaders. He knows what happens to leaders.

"I was just patrolling the bridges," she says. "Just.. making sure nobody was trying to pull any stunts, as you could've guessed."

"Gonta knows." He almost cringes at the sound of his own name. If Kirumi notices, she says nothing, and Gonta is grateful for that ( _because it's Kirumi; she notices everything and everyone_ ).

She smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes, but they do crinkle slightly. The maid is, without a doubt, tired. She should sleep soon, even if it means she'll miss the motive announcement ( _if Monokuma's not planning on waiting for someone to snap or the like_ ).

Instead of departing, Kirumi lifts a hand and places it on Gonta's shoulder. He glances at the gloved hand before refocusing on her face; she stares at him, silent, before frowning a little. "You should eat something, Gokuhara-kun. I didn't see you get anything to eat—nothing _real_ to eat, that is—before you went to bed. Do remember to take care of yourself, alright?"

Her smiles returns, if only significantly smaller than before. "I won't be around to remind you."

Gonta watches as Kirumi retracts her hand, bows and bids him farewell. She disappears behind one of the cabins, and the sound of knocking reminds him that she's making rounds. He doesn't think about the words that were said to him—he doesn't need to eat, Jelly needs to eat.

What's she talking about? She'll always be here.

Kirumi won't die. She's too _good_ to die.

Maybe he should stop thinking about this stuff. It'd definitely be in his best interest at this point, as his brain is too quick to escalate thoughts to images of bloodied corpses and tearful and snot-stained faces. His recent nightmares were proof of how horrid his brain was at the moment, and giving it more fuel to prosper was _not_ a good idea. Not now, not ever.

Even then, Gonta shouldn't be thinking about dead people. He's too exhausted to fight against the thoughts most of the time, which leaves his vulnerable and defenseless to the constant onslaught of terrors generated every minute or so.

He pinches the bridge of his nose again. Why is he so bad at this? Why did he have to grasp all of these emotions, all of these conflicting thoughts—

 _Why did he have to be sentient,_ he wants to think, but it's another form of fuel that he doesn't need. So, reasonably, he stops that thought before it forms, and decides to try his hand at finding the dining hall. Not like he and his two friends found it yesterday.

No, they found a store with food to snack on and other questionable items. Perhaps he could go there to obtain his food. Not the worst thing he's thought of.

However, he's still not hungry and he's looking for food for a frog. He pops open the box and sticks his hand in; the frog doesn't respond, simply pressing their face against the glass. Oh.

They're not hungry. He came outside for nothing. Go figure.

Concerning the fact that he doesn't know where the dining hall is and lacks the common need to have breakfast, Gonta takes to wandering. Not the best idea, concerning the circumstances, but it'd work in his favor regardless of what happened. Adventure or freedom.

The latter option is a lot darker than one would think. Freedom in Gonta's eyes is not the best thing. Not when anyone could murder him in cold-blood, possibly dragging others down with them.

"Oh, someone else is up?"

Gonta stops at the sound of _someone's_ voice. Familiar, but foreign in the sense that he never heard a lot from the owner of said voice. He squints, attempting to piece together who could possibly own said voice—calm and gentle, but with an underlying firmness.

Yet again, Gonta experiences hesitation before he angles his head to peer behind him; oh.

It's familiar because it's Rantaro. The male is brandishing a carefree smile, hands tucked in his pockets. His gaze, much like Kirumi's, is warm. Gonta doesn't get lost in it, though, and keeps his distance because he never got to know Rantaro that well.

Distrusting. Gonta can't remember the last time he felt the emotion, if only because this was the first time. He was vaguely aware of the fact that, once, he'd blindly trusted the male. However, it's.. difficult. He doesn't know why, but part of him thinks it's because of the emotional trauma.

( _That's justified... right?_ )

"Nice to see you, Gonta." Rantaro's expression falters slightly, and Gonta thinks he noticed his split-second grimace. The male seems to think for a moment before his expression lights up again, removing a hand from his pocket to properly emote. "Should I be calling you Gokuhara-kun, then? You can just tell me if something makes you uncomfortable, man; I don't mind."

Gonta adverts his gaze. He feigns indifference, not knowing how to reply to that. Rantaro takes it all in stride, lifting his emoting hand to tap at his forehead as he chuckles. It's a gentle sound, nothing unsurprising coming from the likes of the Ultimate Adventurer. After all, he was kind of a big brother to everyone, right? Kind of, because Gonta was one of the few people who failed to understand that concept.

Can't blame him. He's never had a sibling before, much less a friend. Kokichi, Kaito, Angie and Shuichi were his only friends back then. Two of them were lying to his face. Only two, but he's thinking of raising the number to three, if only because he's growing more hesitant about the Ultimate Detective's inner workings. Kaito was trustworthy, but Shuichi..

Overthinking isn't good for the heart. Not good for when you're talking to other people, either.

Rantaro takes on a thoughtful expression, searching the other's face for _something._ What, he doesn't know, but he doesn't think he needs to ask about it. Not when Rantaro's already opening his mouth to speak yet again. "Hey, can I get permission to do something real quick?"

Gonta blinks. He attempts to guess what the other's talking about, but finds it exceedingly difficult to think. Perhaps his brain only allows thoughts that, in due time, will make him experience a breakdown or something like that. Definitely a possibility.

For now, however, he tilts his head and continues to stare. ".. For what?"

Rantaro reaches out and hovers his hand over Gonta's. "Can I hold your hand for a second? Kirumi told me to take people to the dining hall if I saw them, and I'm pretty sure you don't know where that is.." He manages to look a little sheepish after speaking, retracting his hand slightly as he moves to cradle the back of his head.

Then, in a heartbeat, Rantaro's apologizing. He knows why, but doesn't know _why._ There's nothing to apologize for, as far as he's concerned. Rantaro's already offering to waste time on him. "Sorry if you have; just assuming things here—"

( _It's not that bad. There's nothing to apologize for._)

Gonta shrugs, not really wanting to hear the sound of his own voice; he knows he'll say _'Gonta doesn't mind'_ and, quite frankly, he might try to scratch out his throat at that point. His tolerance is dampened considerably due to his grogginess. He minds the way he speaks, which is quite silly.

There's little that can be done to change his views. One can only watch as he, gradually, comes to accept the situation. Until then, he'll just be a husk of the joyous person he once was. Yes, a husk; befitting of a corpse that was given life for the entertainment of a twisted, demented reality.

Befitting, very befitting.

The adventurer grins, oblivious to Gonta's inner turmoil. Rantaro takes a hold of the taller's hand and, with the care of a bumblebee extracting pollen from a flower, leads him to the chosen destination; the dining hall. Well, it wasn't chosen, as Kirumi advised Rantaro to take people there, but whatever. Words were never Gonta's forte, anyways. "Ah, I hope you don't mind talking a little on our way there."

Gonta remains silent. _'Gonta doesn't mind,'_ his brain supplies, 'Gonta doesn't mind at all.' The entomologist fights the urge to bash his head against the cobblestone wall of one of the nearby buildings. He succeeds in conquering that urge, soon forcing himself to speak: "Don't mind," he says, even if the offer was given two minutes ago.

It works out in the end, the two managing to strike up several conversations shrouding their own woes about being on the island, about what they'll find, _slightly_ personal worries ( _like how Rantaro, too, had his fair share of self-loathing_ ) _—_ nothing that makes Gonta _that_ uncomfortable. He gets through the conversations surprisingly well, although he does go silent for about three of them.

Rantaro agrees to call him 'Gokuhara-kun' for the remainder of their time on the island. Gonta feels grateful and, in return, decides that Rantaro can be trusted.

The feeling, undoubtedly, will be washed away and reduced to mere debris. Gonta takes the time to cherish it while it's still there. He can only hope that it'll all go well, even if the concept of 'hope' is null in a situation like this. If only it wasn't, then maybe Gonta would've hoped more.

He leaves it at that. Conversing with Rantaro is better than indulging intrusive thoughts.

"Kaede told me you got a frog and named them Jelly." Rantaro gestures to the frog box. "What made you think of that name, eh?"

( _Yeah, d_ _efinitely_ _better._ )

( _Gonta thinks he and Rantaro grew a little closer.._ )

* * *

 **｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**RANTARO AMAMI's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

While the walk was long, Gonta didn't have a concept of time just yet. Because of that, it only felt like a couple of seconds passed before they were standing in front of one of the buildings. It's rather large, to be honest, but it's also somewhat close to the previous facility. Perhaps that's why Gonta didn't discover it; Gundham, Kaede and him made a point to avoid the area surrounding said locale.

However, the beast guarding the sealed doors didn't lunge at them. It was relatively docile at the moment, but luck wasn't going to be tested. Not when Gonta was already unlucky enough to be dragged from the bottomless pit of death, just to go another round in a traumatizing event. Amazing, I tell you, how his luck has benefited him in these trying times.

( _That's.. sarcasm, right?_ )

( _Is sarcasm an emotion? Gonta's not sure, but it's definitely something new._ )

( _Still as confusing as the others, to no surprise._ )

Rantaro pulls away from Gonta, flashing him another appreciative look—one that he doesn't deserve, because the former had been doing all the work. Not only did he provide conversation prompts, but he also guided the latter to another place. _He_ deserved to be flashed an appreciative look, but it wasn't like it would happen now, because he'd already turned away and pulling the door open for Gonta.

"Thank you, Amami-kun," Gonta manages to say before entering the establishment. He hears said male laugh a little, as if he was humored at how civil the other was, but Gonta is too tired to look into it. Too exhausted now, anyways, because he knows it'll crawl into the chamber that was his mind later on. That's how all of his thoughts were working, as horrid as it seemed.

That was one of the reasons why Mukuro still haunted his nightmares. Oh, what he'd do for a normal, reassuring dream. Dreams that had his favorite bugs crawling around, enjoying themselves.

Not being robots and tormenting him, swarming his thoughts and tearing him apart. He bites his tongue before he lets something slip; something that he doesn't want to acknowledge. He's just as flimsy as Chihiro is when it comes to rambling.

Rantaro doesn't need to hear that part of him. Leave him unsuspecting and everything should be fine.

This dining hall looks fancier than the other one, fit for a party or the like. Perhaps Gundham's peers held a party back when they were all alive. Or most of them were alive, anyways, because you can hold a party with fourteen people.

Probably. Did a part have a max capacity, or a minimum capacity? Gonta's never attended one.

A screen hangs high upon the wall, constantly flickering on and off. Occasionally, he can see the outline of a familiar mechanical ursine, a faint red glowing in time with the flickering. Monokuma is _definitely_ waiting to begin its motive announcement.

It's somewhat sickening how Monokuma is aware of the routine they've settled into. Three days have passed; three days, and they'd established a schedule. After a day or two, someone would die. Prior to that moment, exploration and some bonding is to ensue.

This is the maximum amount of days someone can be kept alive. Maybe they'll get to an hour before four days before someone's mangled corpse is found. If they're really lucky, it'll be day five before someone caves and decides they want to die with someone else's blood on their hands.

There is no hope in this place, even if some crazy lunatic loved to ramble on about how, yes, there _is_ hope, put all of it on display for everyone to see. There's nothing wrong with that, surely. Just pushing everyone to do their absolute best, that's all, _that's all there is to it!_

( _Nagito does not help his thoughts. He does swerve them into another lane; it's still chaotic and uncomfortable._ )

The sound of footsteps sound from behind him, and he assumes it's Rantaro entering the locale after him; then said male exclaims another apology and he hears the door screech out in pain, clunking against the wall and silencing itself.

"Almost closed the door." Rantaro chuckles, airy and hesitant. "Sorry about that; hey, Kirumi—"

At the mention of the female who requested for everyone to meet up in the dining hall ( _she was probably doing this on Kiyotaka's behalf_ ), Gonta perks up; physically, mentally, maybe. No, not mentally, he's overreacting. He squeezes his arms tightly, turning his head to be met with several others. Had they arrived at the same time, he wouldn't have lingered in the hall.

He wouldn't have accompanied Rantaro at all. For the best, for the best, not because he was rude or wasn't feeling it.

Kirumi's vacant gaze meets his—there's no warmth, and she makes no effort to cultivate such an appearance. She is tired, looks the part, too. Her hands squeeze her wrists and she wrings her bottom lip beneath her teeth, but she looks to him all the same.

The schedule, he reminds himself. The schedule is making itself apparent with every passing minute.

Celeste regards him with a blank stare—not vacant, but blank. There are, undoubtedly, emotions swelling up inside of her, but she doesn't show them. Her exhaustion is far more difficult to pinpoint in comparison to Kirumi, who's rubbing at her eyes and scrunching up her nose as she takes a hefty intake of air.

The gambler's adorning a suit this time, the color scheme and tie remaining the same. Kind of like Kaede's tailcoat, but not quite; longer, more vest-like in appearance whilst still reminding him of an actual suit. She puffs the collar, hands clothed by white silk and hardens her gaze, soon deciding that fixing her tie was a better alternative than giving him attention.

He's glad, and moves on to access the next person.

Mahiru squints at him, but doesn't seem to be opposed to being observed. Not like Gonta was capable of harming anyone who didn't wish to harm him. She's wearing overalls now, paired with a plaid skirt and black pants hiding beneath said pants. She seems awfully comfy, deciding to wipe the lens of her camera with the hem of her undershirt.

Better than nothing, Gonta supposes. At least the skirts actually go past their thighs this time around.

( _Gonta hides a grimace. Monokuma was, and still is a creep._ )

Two familiar faces—one that he wishes that he never had the courtesy of seeing, one that tried a little too hard when it came to things. Miu and Kaito; the duo of the day, apparently, because they both hone in on him _immediately._ They don't move, giving him time to address their attires.

He _really_ doesn't want to look at Miu. It makes his stomach churn with guilt, misplaced guilt. Everything is misplaced.

Miu's hair is tied up in a high ponytail, blond locks cascading down the back of her hair. Not as long as Korekiyo's, not as messy as Gonta's, but somewhere between. Akin to Kaede's hair, perhaps. A pink bow is the only thing keeping it in place, making her presence far more noticeable than others. Not only that, but the entirety of her clothing is pink; a _vibrant_ pink, but not vibrant enough to burn his eyes.

Thankfully.

A jacket that only covers half of her torso is tucked beneath her pants, which go slightly past her knees; still pink, so much pink. Kind of reminds him of blood, but he can't put his finger on why. Maybe because of the close relation. Spiked earrings coat her earlobes, much like Rantaro's, and she has goggles resting on her head like a headband. There are hearts in the goggles' frames, but they're perfectly see-through regardless of this fact.

Probably. Gonta's never worn goggles before.

There are bands wrapped a little higher over her ankles, hovering over her socks and shoes. Black, miniature belts—are those belts?—are wrung around her thighs, and it's difficult to pry his eyes away from them. They're just.. _out there_. To no surprise, the shirt beneath her jacket exposes the beginning of her chest, the letters 'NSFW' printed in the middle. It's fitting, far better than her previous outfit.

Yes, _far_ better. Gonta is only slightly uncomfortable, if only because of what he did for her to end up here.

The other half of her jacket, the part that's _not_ tucked under her pants messily, hangs off the side of her waist limply, only woven around it slightly. Much like Angie, she has a utility belt keeping her pants from falling. It's equipped with many tools, far too many to count, and Gonta swears that some of those tools shouldn't be shown to anyone dreading the next murder.

Miu's eyes widen as she realizes that he's observing her. Strangely enough, she says nothing, but makes a scene out of whipping her head away from him and pulling up her belt a little. She's flustered, most likely, going off of the perturbed expression that crosses her face.

Kaito, on the other hand, regards him with a grin. A hearty grin, one that he doesn't feel deserving of.

Much like Miu, he has earrings of his own; golden studs, Gonta thinks, because he doesn't know anything other than 'stud' and 'spiky'. His hair is far more tousled than before, drooping closer to his scalp and no longer.. well, out there. He looks pretty content with it, although it's only a matter of time before he pours a bucket of gel over his head and his hair goes back into that questionable solid posture. It's only slightly sickening, to be honest.

( _Yes, yes, blame it on the anti-gravity. That makes sense._ )

Not much else has changed on his part, as opposed to the likes of of Miu, apart from the different shirt—a plain, white shirt with some space-like logo printed on the front of it. Gonta doesn't know what the brand belongs to, but it has something to do with space going off the red rings circling the text. His jacket is a darker shade now, but it's nothing someone can necessarily find an interest in.

A kinder way of saying that, quite frankly, Gonta didn't care much for the redesigns. There are other things to fret about, like the safety of others, the safety of _himself_.

Kirumi clears her throat. It's barely audible, and it looks like it pains her to make the noise; she's tired, dehydrated, perhaps. Too busy with everyone else to care for herself, or maybe she was experiencing her own fair share of trauma. After all, she _did_ throw her victim—Ryoma, poor Ryoma—into a piranha tank. Water is definitely a no-go for her, and it doesn't help that they're surrounded by it now.

The maid is not okay. Gonta knows this, but says nothing.

"I'll be departing to fetch the others for breakfast." Her eyes droop, and Mahiru places a gentle hand on her back. She jolts awake, eyes frantic for a moment before she inhales deeply and turns heel, pushing open the door before Rantaro can even _think_ of approaching the entrance. "I will return in due time.. and.. don't ask for Mikan. She's in her cabin, and doesn't wish to be.."

She trails off. Her feet mindlessly guide her out the door, leaving everyone to watch as she walks along the pier in search for any other waking students. _Students._ They're participants, at the very least. The former term was not something that brought about fondness. Nothing here brought fondness, not when he was watching one of his most vigilant companions succumb so quickly.

Kirumi was stronger than that, wasn't she? The question remains unanswered. Won't be answered for as long as it isn't asked.

It won't be asked.

( _At least Mikan's alive and.. well. That's something positive._ )

Only then does Miu's gaze drift back to him; it's weary, and he doesn't blame her in the slightest. She has every reason to be wary of him, to be _put off_ by his presence. Not like he was expecting her to immediately become comfortable around him, as he was the one who choked her out like it was the easiest thing to do. No, he wasn't going to confirm if it was easy or not, because he doesn't want to think about murdering Miu.

She's gone through enough. Much like everyone else here—mostly everyone else here, disregarding one person in particular—she's tired and deserves a break. Hence the reason why Gonta has to stifle yet another expression when she approaches him cautiously, followed closely by Kaito.

In what appears to be an attempt to soften the tenseness floating around them, Miu cranes her head back to grin at the star-lover. "Hey, you some kind of perv, trying to look at my ass or somethin'?"

Kaito rolls his eyes, not even attempting to amuse her. Emotions, everyone has emotions, Gonta keeps forgetting that and setting the bar far too low. That's kind of rude, now that he thinks about it. Is Gonta being rude? It's a possibility that he's willing to consider.

For now, he just listens to the two: Kaito shrugs a little before providing a short, curt answer. "Nah."

The inventor whines a little at that, dissolving into small mutters about how she was 'trying to lighten the mood'. Trying, not achieving or anything of the sort. Not surprising.

It's tense for a long moment, soon forcing Kaito to drop a hand onto Gonta's shoulder. Miu ducks out of the way, not wanting to be reached over, and begins to utter complaints in contrast to her small apologies mere moments before. She's definitely difficult to read, that's for sure, but it's not as severe as the likes of Celeste or Angie or _him_.

( _Can't be bothered to understand him._ )

Kaito's hand squeezes his vest and Gonta staves off a grunt at the pressure. Doesn't hurt, in fact he barely registers the feeling due to the bulk building up in that specific spot, but he's sentient enough to acknowledge the hand resting there in the first place. He.. just doesn't want to be touched. He can't communicate that right now, though, and just stares at Kaito with a lost gaze.

Is he supposed to be watching for a cue? Maybe ask him to remove his hand, even if that meant risking uttering his given name?

The entomologist doesn't have to make the choice, because Kaito's other hand drops around Miu's shoulders and yanks her forward; she squeals out something that sounds like a kinky invitation, and he would've questioned what a 'threesome' was if the astronaut hadn't interjected his thoughts with a low huff. "Y'know, you two," he looks between the both of them, "can speak to one another."

Gonta makes a face. Miu reddens slightly. Neither of the two say anything, simply regarding Kaito with an indescribable set of expressions. They almost look perturbed, but not quite. It's just a _little_ off, that's all.

For once, Kaito looks emotionally exhausted. He slips his hand off Gonta's shoulder in favor of dragging it down the side of his face, whereas Miu is still dormant under the safety of his arm. She looks a little smug, for whatever reason, but the entomologist thinks it may have something to do with the 'threesome' comment. He decides that it's probably for the best that he doesn't know what she's talking about.

Not yet, at least. Even if this was a murder-site, Gonta still wanted to know a thing or two about the people he never got to converse with—Kirumi, Kaede, Rantaro.. there were so many people to talk to, even if they happened to see him as some giant bug-monster.

Nobody has thrown such an insult at him as of right, so he thinks he's doing something right. He's not sure, but he's willing to wade those waters when the time comes.

"I already told her about how she died— _why_ she died, I mean."

Gonta blinks. Miu pitches in, puffing out her chest like she always does. "Yeah, astro-boy told me everything!"

She staggers away from Kaito, who suddenly realizes what he's unleashed, and slings an arm around Gonta. Too touchy, _why is everyone so touchy, they didn't even ask for permission_—

"That little bastard thinks he's so slick," Miu hisses near his ear, and Gonta attempts to jostle out of her grip. She's too in the zone to realize his _immediate_ discomfort. Kaito shoots him an apologetic look that means nothing, as the other male doesn't even try to pry Miu away from him. "Throwing the strongest n' nicest lump of meat at me, getting me eradicated like that! We'll show 'em—we'll see who's throwing who when the time times!" She bursts into a laugh that hurts Gonta's ears.

He looks visibly uncomfortable, he realizes, noting how the clicks of heels are echoing through the quietness ( _apart from the loud guffawing and distant, monotone conversations one can only have at the crack of dawn_ ) of the hall. His eyes flick away from the ceiling—he'd been trying to ignore Miu for a while, but the way she tended to spit whenever she got too loud was really bothering him—and drop to the owner of the heels.

"Gonta looks quite uncomfortable." Celeste places a hand over her mouth, brandishes a napkin from her pocket and holds it out to Gonta—as if he's a dog being handed a treat, and she doesn't want slobber to get on her freshly painted nails. There is disdain in his head as he takes it, finally able to move away from Miu as he wipes off the side of his face.

Miu quirks a brow, pursing her lips and giving Celeste an accusatory look. Gods, not this again. "Whaddya mean, _uncomfortable_? I'll have you know, my _tits are great headwarmers—_ "

Celeste lifts a hand and grimaces. "I wasn't referring to your assets making him uncomfortable, Iruma-san. Have you noticed how he acts around that little brat?"

Miu goes silent for a quick second—a second of peace, and that is all, because she squeaks out an apology and twiddles her fingers as if she's in trouble. Her personality is far too difficult to pun down this early in the morning, and Gonta thinks he might collapse on the spot from how much stuff's going on. Too much stuff, far too much stuff going on for him to keep up with.

At this rate, he'd be lucky if his brain just shuts down completely. That'd be quite useful at the moment, to be honest.

Before Kaito can open his mouth to yell at them for 'causing a scene' ( _Kaito would definitely do that, even if it meant that he was the one causing the scene_), Rantaro steps between them and lifts his hands in defense. Celeste steps away, calm and collected whereas Miu pops another inappropriate joke. At least she's not shivering like a leaf anymore, although she'll definitely delve back into that phase if he stares for too long.

So, reasonably, he stops staring and focuses on the sound of the doors opening again. They brush against the walls this time, and Gonta flinches away from them when the crowd of people begins to wander in. The first one to weasel their way in is the man of the year ( _not really_ ): Kokichi Ouma.

( _Purgatory._ )

It takes less than a second for Kokichi's eyes to dilate, signalling that he, too, has noticed Gonta's presence. His face splits into a creepy, yet familiar misleading smile; his bangs cloak a good portion of his forehead, making him look like some sort of shadow spawn or the like. He takes a step forward before bursting into a sprint, hangs outstretched as he cheers loudly.

Then he chokes on his own spit and is yanked backwards by the hood of his hoodie. He claws at the hands keeping him stationary before going limp, pouting and crossing his heavily cloaked arms. Gonta doesn't want to get a good look of his outfit; it's a hoodie, that's all it is, with sewn on sleeves decorated with a checkered pattern.

Gonta doesn't focus on him anymore after that assessment. That's it, it's nothing _special_ , nothing as fancy as Sayaka's ( _she just walked in, wearing some frilly blue idol's costume—pretty, very pretty_ ) or fitting like Leon's ( _a_ _baseball uniform.. makes sense, although the little music notes dancing on his belt were quite strange_ ).

Just some raggedy, torn-up hoodie that held no value whatsoever. Jelly, for the first time in the past handful of minutes, croaks and closes their eyes. They, too, are exhausted. Gonta thinks about making a run for his cabin, but knows he'll just be dragged right back into the building mere moments after settling into his bed. Bummer.

The person keeping Kokichi from ramming into Gonta is none other than Korekiyo—they don't look exhausted, even if they were a little fragile after being pinned as a witness, and tug on the smaller's hoodie whenever he attempts to wring himself out of Korekiyo's grip.

"Hey, let me go—!"

"Silence yourself before I yank your lungs out your orifices." Korekiyo threatens lowly, and Kokichi pales.

( _And emotions have caused Korekiyo to—as some people say—go feral. Nice._ )

Korekiyo, unsurprisingly, doesn't miss a beat. They never miss a beat, and Gonta finds that exceedingly wonderful concerning the situation. Any drop on Kokichi was a good one at this rate ( _distaste, pettiness, horrible_ _feelings_ ), and he turns his head to look at some of the others. Pekoyama regards him with a nod, settled down beside Mondo near one of the dining tables.

Gonta's stomach growls. Softly, fortunately, so only he can hear it. Kirumi eyes him quietly, but she's far too tired to do something about it. Score.

Mahiru breaks the silence with a sigh. She then looks down one of the long, narrow hallways, eyes squinting as she does so. She may need glasses or the like; there's always the possibility that a camera's flashes can gradually blind someone, but then he realizes that the flash can be turned off and shuts up immediately. Assumptions are bad when they're about someone you didn't have the luxury of knowing.

"Has.. anyone fed Nagito as of last night?" She asks, and it's quiet. Nekomaru whistles, hands propped behind his neck, and Gonta feels another bout of sickness wash over him. He has to _physically_ swallow down a minor bile of vomit at the fact that they were, basically, letting someone slowly wither away via starvation.

Not even Kirumi said anything, and she was one of the leaders. Kiyotaka looks absolutely terrified, blanching with a watery gaze. Those are not good signs.

Mahiru seems to feel the same, although her face goes red from how she's handling the news. She clenches her fists around her camera and bites her lip.

"Well, we don't want another trial, _right?_ We can't just let him die, so someone has go feed him!"

"Gonta will do it," he volunteers, completely aware of the consequences of his actions. Nagito is crazy, definitely, but Kokichi is his trauma in sentient, human form. He'll take the former over the latter _any_ day.

Besides, an excuse to not eat anything? Sign him right up.

He should probably eat soon. Can't search for clues on an inevitable murder case when you're forcing yourself to operate on an empty stomach. At least, that's what Shuichi told him, and he's been thinking about that ever since last night.

It's been rough. Very, very rough.

"I wanna go," Kokichi wheezes out, but is silenced by Korekiyo's grip tightening. Not tight enough to suffocate him or snap his neck, but tight enough to keep him from whining. They tilt his head forward, continuing to pull at the hoodie before Sakura places a hand on their shoulder and squeezes gently. She mouths something that he doesn't understand, but it's enough to make them let go of the little miscreant for the time being.

Kokichi lands straight on his face, choking on the sudden influx of air and beating his chest as it racks with coughs every few seconds. The sounds are disturbing, but Gonta feigns nonchalance in favor of looking to a groggy Kirumi.

She blinks at him slowly before lifting a plate with both hands; not one hand, like she typically does, even if she's running low on energy; and placing it in his waiting palms. "Do you know where Komaeda is?" Her voice is soft, worn down by a lack of water in her system. Gonta has half the mind to tell her to drink something, but he won't someone else can handle that.

Like Sakura, who's already giving the poor maid a solemn look. Sakura can take care of Kirumi, he's sure of it.

Gonta looks down the hallway, leans to the side and notices a pair of doors resting off to the side. Kirumi follows his movements, albeit slower and in a far less tense manner, before nodding and patting his back gently. A soft urge without words, it would seem, and he wasn't about to push her to speak. Not when she seemed to be in quite the rut already—don't worsen it, for the love of God _don't worsen it._

( _Angie tilts her head and smiles. It's disturbing._ )

Rantaro gives him a pat on the shoulder; quick, comfortable, good. Celeste smiles a little, "I hope he doesn't attack you."

Gonta vacates the premises after that. Kokichi was already making a steady recovery—who knows what stupid nonsense he'd spout, who knows what Gonta would _believe_ coming from that faulty mouth of his. Nothing, probably, because you're not supposed to trust liars.

You're not supposed to do that. He understands that in this reality, in this second life.

The door has a small sign hanging over it; 'kitchen' it says, and Gonta realizes that they tied Nagito up in the _kitchen._ What type of cruelty were they looking to achieve through doing this? Depraving him of something that was a mere stroll away from him, leaving him to writhe around on the floor or in a chair while Kirumi or someone else whipped up a nice breakfast for everyone?

The writhing on the floor part was right, because Gonta opens the door to see something he'd rather erase from his memories at that very moment. There lays Nagito, legs and hands bound while he lays on his side, deathly still. He's not even looking in his direction, but Gonta knows that he's probably looking around.

From here, his hair looks far messier than before; it's unkempt, spiraling this way and that in a far more disorganized manner than before. The longer strands of his hair slip over his shoulders and go forward, strangely straightened and curled whilst everything else is in disarray. There is a small puddle of blood pooling beneath his bandaged arm; dried blood, he notices, and winces.

"What did they do to Komaeda-kun," he mutters. Nagito, apparently, hears him.

With a sudden fervor, the hope-loving hostage rolls into the dried blood; which, strangely enough, fails to stain him in the slightest, and grins up at Gonta. His lips tremble, as if it's difficult to keep his jaw in place, and it doesn't take a genius to note that he _definitely_ tried to fight back against Nekomaru. It did not go well for him, it would seem, and now he was malnourished and in horrible shape.

There are bags underneath his slightly puffy eyes. Had he not slept this entire night? Maybe, but Gonta wouldn't ask that question. He was here to give Nagito food and, hopefully, leave with the skin on his back. The skin on his body, most preferably, but Nagito was someone who could make him uncomfortable with a single sentence.

"Hello, Gokuhara-kun!" He rolls onto his back, continuing to stare up at him like some lost dog. "Oh, is that for me? Or are you just here to eat in front of me? I'd be fine with both, although the latter is far more befitting for scum such as myself.."

( _.. What._ )

The unkempt male's pupils dilate for a moment's notice, as if he's experiencing some sort of flashback or honing in on Gonta ( _the first option sounds better, but it's probably not the case_ ), before the grin drips into a smile. A tight-lipped, uncomfortably stretched smile that looks quite painful on the cheekbones.

".. Gonta came to feed Komaeda-kun." He winces when Nagito gasps, beginning to wiggle around in order to sit up. It takes a moment, but he's soon perched on his knees, smiling up at the male with eager eyes.

Ah, that familiar sense of discomfort is beginning to settle in. Almost like it never left in the first place. How wondrous.

"Oh, but am I _really_ deserving of a meal supplied by someone as hopeful as you?" Not this garbage again. Gonta already had his fair share of trauma-lathered thoughts and did _not_ need Nagito to broaden his horizons in that area. "If anything, it'd be better if I just laid here and starved like the worthless worm I am! My apologies for declining your hospitality again, Gokuhara-kun; I just can't believe an Ultimate is visiting me.."

Gonta plops the plate—smeared with pancakes cloaked with melting butter and blueberries—on the floor in front of Komaeda and gets ready to step away. He then realizes something as Nagito stares at it for a long moment, drool beginning to dribble out the side of his mouth whilst he's at it. Gross. It's like a dog, but Gonta doesn't think he's qualified to be calling Nagito a 'dog'. Too mean, too mean.

Nagito doesn't even strain against his restraints, which have begun to dig into his skin from how scratchy and thick the ropes are. He must've tried to pull them apart once or twice, only to force them deeper into his skin to the point where he just had to _deal_ with it. Gonta winces at the thought before squatting down, catching the former by surprise.

No, Nagito deserves this. He may be insane, and a creep, and a lot of other things.. but he shouldn't have to starve here because people just _forgot about him._ Gonta knows the feeling, he knows it all too well and he's not going to let someone else pour their last bits of sanity into some empty flower pot.

( _Strange metaphor, but it works._ )

He snags the plastic fork from the plate, and Nagito watches him expectantly; probably thinks that he'll start eating in front of him. Gonta wasn't even hungry. Not like he'd do such a thing in the first place, though. That was just horrible. Besides, that's not what he came here to do.

"What are you—?" Nagito chokes when Gonta stuffs a fluffy pancake slice into his mouth, having to tilt his head forward to cough it right back into his mouth and chew at it gently. His jaw was probably injured, too, which definitely meant he was kicking and screaming behind closed doors. God, what did Nekomaru have to do to restrain him properly?

A lot of property damage to his internal build, from the looks of it.

Nagito blinks a couple of times after swallowing, the taste of butter still rich on his tongue. Then he opens his mouth again, eyes watering a little from the sudden realization that, after more than twelve hours, _someone's_ actually feeding him. Or maybe it's because of the fact that he nearly choked on a pancake slice. One of the two, Gonta doesn't care, because he's already plopping another slab into the male's mouth to feed him.

Nagito doesn't ramble after that. Just silently opens his mouth and chews and swallows and repeats the process. Gonta thinks this is far better than lingering around Kokichi and Korekiyo. One makes him uncomfortable whereas the other digs up memories he doesn't want to have in his arsenal anymore.

* * *

 **｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**NAGITO KOMAEDA's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

"Thank you!" Nagito chirps from his kneeling position on the floor. He soon drops back onto his side, but continues to stare at Gonta with that unyielding look of complete and utter adoration; the same look he'd been giving quite a few of the Ultimates ever since this whole fiasco started. Strangely enough, the entomologist is only mildly uncomfortable with said look.

He, with hesitance ( _so much hesitance, not a day goes by where he doesn't hesitate_ ), smiles at Nagito. The bleach-haired male immediately perks up and, satisfied, rolls over and faces the wall again. The empty plate is heavy in Gonta's hand, and he wonders how long he spent feeding the practical hostage.

No more than thirty minutes, hopefully, because then that'd become problematic. Didn't want to be questioned on why he took his 'sweet time' feeding Nagito breakfast, especially when he could've just left it there and treat him like some animal.

( _Blegh. That doesn't sit well with Gonta._ )

( _What type of stuff was Nagito subjected to in his killing game..?_ )

Gonta huffs, but stiffens when the intercom above him crackles. Shoot, did he miss the motive announcement? How was he supposed to know when that stupid half-and-half ursine got the television screen working?!

" _Ahem, ahem! It's that time of the day, folks! It's time.. for the neeeext motive! Hooray!_ "

Deafening silence follows, and Gonta clenches his fist. What's gonna drive someone over the edge this time—?

" _You're all no fun!_ " Monokuma growls into the microphone before drawing away, slurping some sort of beverage in a noisy, annoying manner. " _But no matter! On with the motive announcement: it's the classic, the one that you all hold near and dear to your hearts..!_ "

Gonta hears someone scoff. Monokuma either ignores them or didn't hear them; the former, most likely.

" _Drumroll please! It's the threat of a loved one being murdered on live television! Ya either kill someone or I'll kill someone you love, simple as that! Can be in this killing game, can be outside of it; if you got any crushes, be prepared to get crushed, upupupu!_"

The intercom fizzles out, and there is a loud clamor from the dining hall. 

Gonta blanches. He doesn't move from his spot until the nausea stops.

( _.. Oh._ )

That's all he can think as he wanders back into the dining hall, empty plate in hand, eyes trained on the way everyone seems to be looking between on another. He makes eye contact with Korekiyo, who looks awfully frightened by the prospect of a loved one dying; they're friends, he reminds himself.

He looks to Kaede and Gundham; they stare right back at him, gazes a cross between bewildered and completely lost.

( _Someone's.. going to die in the next twenty four hours.._ )

( _..._ )

( _Monokuma's bluffing, right? It wouldn't.. kill one of.. us.._ )

( _Right?_ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter Two: The Gift Of The Chrysanthemums - PART THREE**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 23**

**Rantaro Amami's Report Card Update:**

_Gonta never got to interact with Rantaro a lot, as he died.. fairly quickly in the previous game. However, when met with the opportunity to create a bond, Gonta hesitantly takes it, but doesn't regret it. Rantaro and him discuss their fair share of interests and thoughts on their way to the dining hall. It's not much, but it's enough to establish some sort of acquaintanceship.._

**Nagito Komaeda's Report Card Update:**

_The self-deprecating nature hasn't changed in the slightest, it would seem. Komaeda's seen better days, concerning the fact that he probably resisted a little too much and got a little lesson in discipline from Nekomaru; whether he intended to or not, he left Nagito in a state where it was definitely difficult to properly coordinate himself. He looked so frail.. Maybe he needs more than a friend; a medic and a therapist would definitely help a little._


	11. A Body Has Been Discovered!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the schedule is followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: vomit/puke

In order to keep himself from obsessing over pained and lost expressions, Gonta focuses on Kiyotaka; it's not the best idea, as said male is quite overemotional and looks ready to burst at that very moment. Not like crying was prohibited or anything, but it _really_ wasn't the best idea to focus on the most emotional person in the room ( _from the looks of it, anyways; who knows the internal turmoil others could be facing.._ )

Spiraling red pupils shift this way and that, frantic and trembling against a white canvas. They stop, if only for a second, and dilate like a hunting feline. Makes sense, actually, because he's taking a step forward and holding his hands up. Not a sign of surrender, much to Monokuma's dismay, but one that demanded attention. His gradually hardening gaze makes it difficult to oppose him.

The entomologist angles his head away from the poor guy. He has his attention, regardless, but it's not like he was given much of a choice.

( _Gonta wonders if he could've just stayed in the kitchen with Nagito._ )

( _Sure, they didn't converse much, but that was one of the best parts about the experience._ )

Kiyotaka is an intelligent individual. He's swayed by fear and distress, yes, but his intelligence sets him apart from others. Most, at the very least, because Celeste is a gambler, Angie masks her intentions behind the guise of a benevolent spirit and Chihiro could program a computer; otherwise, Kiyotaka is intelligent.

Which is why the clamoring slows to a halt when he faces the crowd. They watch with their various expressions—lost and pained and blank—as he lowers his hands, as if commanding a symphony to die out at the end of the final chorus. Once he's certain that everyone is situated to the best of their ability, he goes slack and huffs out a sigh.

It's all he can do. Gonta respects him nonetheless, because it reminds him of Kirumi.

"Alright," he begins, "keep your heads in place, people! Don't start clamming up because of Monokuma's threats!" His words feel feeble, but his volume keeps Gonta's attention. He cannot say the same for others.

Gundham's eyes drift off to the side. Korekiyo begins to clutch their arms tightly, pulling at their haori's sleeves like a lifeline. Celeste's gaze flickers over him, once, twice, then drops back down to his frantic state. Even Mondo's eyes begin to wander, all while he worries at his bottom lip.

Nobody does a good job of taking Kiyotaka seriously. Once again, Gonta can't blame them, even if _he_ has no qualms when it comes to placing his trust in the medal-draped male.

Kiyotaka is frantic, Gonta knows this, but he hides it well enough to act like a leader to the rest of them. The latter knows how long that'll last, especially in a place like this. Nobody ever really liked the leaders, it would seem.

Mondo and Chihiro were exceptions, as were Rantaro and Kaede. The latter pair were leaders, too, and were condemned to this very fate. However, the first pair.. no, they appear to care far too much about Kiyotaka to betray him.

( _For a moment, someone comes to mind. He perishes the thought with haste._)

Kirumi looks ready to aid him, lifting a foot, all before she halts and looks down. Her gaze is considerate, condescending—her face is _so_ many things that Gonta can't process from where he stands. And, in a fit of confusion and anxiousness, he decides that he doesn't want to understand. He doesn't need to understand emotions, he hates them, you don't try to comprehend something you hate.

Sometimes. This is one of those times. He doesn't want to understand. Not anymore—that childish, glowing naivety was gone and he had no intention of letting it slip back in. Yes, even if it meant discarding his want to learn new things.

Gonta doesn't need to know things. He refuses to know things, if only to lessen the blow of death. Just a little. He wants solace.

It's somewhere in there, surely. Solace is there. He just has to keep digging for it, keep himself protected and away from everything that makes him feel unsafe. Besides, it's rude to talk when someone else is talking, and Gonta doesn't think that attempting to interject Kiyotaka's speech was a good idea. No, bad idea, incredibly bad idea.

( _He waits, but the reoccurring thought of 'a gentleman wouldn't do that' never comes._ ) 

"Monokuma wouldn't just _murder us_ _!_ " Several people flinch at the idea of being killed, others remaining still like waiting sheep. All of them are the same, aware of how easily they could be murdered and mutilated beyond belief. Someone has to die, for the worse and only that.

"That's a violation of its own rules! It has clearly stated that it, even when beckoning us to mutilate each other for the entertainment of.."

Kiyotaka trails off. His voice lowers to a measly whisper, but soon raises with such fervor that Gonta takes a step back. "Those _sickos_ who don't know what it's like to experience death and be put in this position again! He won't kill us, but he's betting on _someone_ to act like their loved ones are still alive and breathing out there, when they're probably dead!"

Oh. Yikes.

Once again, he considers fleeing to the kitchen. Safer, quieter, just has a lonely, restrained husk laying in there. Maybe he's still hungry. Gonta wouldn't know. He forgot to ask when he was making his way out, and Nagito wasn't too keen on speaking 'out of term'. Whatever that means.

For a long time, it's quiet. Just the way Gonta likes it; peaceful, in a twisted sense, and he wonders how quiet it would be if there was blood on the floor. Quieter, he knows, far quieter.

He recalls seeing a knife in the kitchen, one with a sharp blade and a black, metallic handle. Sharp enough to cut a fork in half if he tried enough, perhaps.

The entomologist pulls at his fingers, fidgeting; he pretends he's holding the knife, spinning it in circles and throwing it into the air and catching it, repeating each step over and over again.

He thinks about retrieving it, putting it to good use, but it's just a fleeting thought.

Fortunately, Gonta doesn't act on fleeting thoughts. Not too often, anyways. It was a no-go from start to finish, but the idea of being secluded was the only factor that kept him from exiting right then and there. Kirumi needs to be around, as do Gundham and Kaede and little ol' Jelly.

Gonta doesn't know how to feel about anyone else. Those are his friends, his companions, the most trustworthy people on this forsaken island. His standards are low, surely.

All because of some little miscreant that wanted to use him as a murder weapon.

The knife rests in his palm, if only for a second. It's a hallucination, one that he brought about, but that doesn't stop him from trying to wrap his fingers around the handle. Sleek, metallic and black; dangerous and heavy in his hands.

It's not there, but he clenches his fists all the same.

( _Gonta hates thinking. He doesn't want to think anymore._ )

With a great dose of hesitance, Korekiyo takes the stand. "I don't like how you're assuming our _loved ones_ are dead." Their voice is shaky, unlike all the other times where their broad knowledge reverberated in their tone. They're unsure of the truth behind their words; there is no sense of finality, and that's when Gonta realizes that _Kiyotaka is probably right._

His family, if he ever had one in the first place, is probably dead. What little fabrications of his former life were ripped to shreds in that instant.

That means someone here; someone he _cares_ about; will die.

An acidic bile scratches at the back of his throat, stinging, burning. He cradles his neck with both hands, squeezing and a weight is dropped on his shoulder soon after. Nobody was near him, right? It feels too quiet, why wasn't anyone talking anymore?

There is a yell before everything is drowned out by the sound of gurgling and choking and _sputtering_.

Gonta would describe his vomiting as some sort of purging, as if he was compelled to do it. He didn't want to throw up, no, not in the slightest; but it was too late to swallow the bile back down without choking on the half-digested remains of what little he managed to eat the day prior. It burns his tongue on the way out, spilling from his mouth as a pale, creamy chyme.

There's a sudden splash of sound, just as Gonta sinks to his knees and barely avoids placing his hands in the puddle of his own puke. He heaves, all as someone peels hair from his damp forehead and another massages his spine ( _or maybe the same person does that, too_ ). He continues to retch until clear liquid becomes the only thing that bypasses the barrier of his lips; saliva, he notes, and he clenches his fists.

Hurried steps indicate that someone vacated the area. Reasonable, as Gonta's still on his knees, stomach dry-heaving as he struggles to breathe in something that doesn't smell like acidic bread. He remembers what he's eaten, and his eyes are blurred with tears when he comes to.

He stares at the puddle of residue beneath him. He chokes before another comes up, and he's left to keen over and retch some more. It burns, it _burns_ , but he can't stop vomiting until there's nothing left in him. His stomach is empty and, truly, he doesn't feel hungry. Exhausted, definitely, and he has to keep himself from wiping off his mouth with his elbow.

"Don't start vomiting again," a voice reprimands. Korekiyo, or maybe Sakura. One of the two. A hand cusps the back of his neck and massages it gently; no, Korekiyo, it's Korekiyo. They've done this before, a long time ago, whenever they had to wash and style Gonta's hair.

He doesn't turn to look at them, far too focused on spitting out the few chunks that lodged themselves behind his teeth. They taste disgusting and he knows he won't be able to forget how they feel against his tongue. Disgusting, sickly, and his stomach churns.

"Deep breaths, Gonta. Can you do that for me?"

Gonta attempts to speak, but begins coughing again. Something pushes against his mouth and he realizes that someone is wiping it, cleaning off bile and spit and whatnot. He immediately assumes Kirumi's in front of him, if he's going off the dress that barely avoids resting in the pool of vomit.

It smells putrid, he notes absentmindedly.

"Taka, maybe you shouldn't talk about death around him.." Another voice speaks; Chihiro, it belongs to Chihiro, he thinks. His mind is jumbled from the sudden bout of nausea, his eyes are blurry and he's _trying_ to take deep breaths. It's probably Chihiro, has to be. "E-everyone's already on edge, and Tsumiki-san isn't around to give immediate medical assistance..!"

"I told you to eat something." Kirumi sounds distant, thoughtful, perhaps. "You'll starve by the end of this is you're not careful enough, Gokuhara-kun."

He bristles at the tone she's using. It feels threatening, no, it feels like a _promise_. At this point, there's no use in trying to figure out what's ticked her off. Nobody's having a good time, especially with the newest, far too concerning motive looming over their heads.

There are no clocks, aside from the one Korekiyo adorns. Otherwise, they must wait and wait until _someone_ happens to meet their end. Be it because of their 'headmaster' or one of their many peers.

Kirumi wipes away some bile that got on his cheek. He bites his tongue and forces some tears out his eyes. Kirumi brandishes another napkin and wipes those away, too.

She's definitely the mother-figure around here, if not just your typical caring leader.

( _No, she's just the mother-figure. That eases some of his worries._ )

Korekiyo's fingers weigh heavy on his neck and he feels the need to throw up again. There's nothing left in there, he's _vaguely_ aware of that, but his stomach turns all the same and his clenched fists begin to whiten.

Kirumi makes a small noise under her breath. Gonta suspects it's one of disapproval, judging by her expression. Far from approving, he'd say. She pulls away from him to stand up, making another noise when she steps in the gradually fermenting vomit pooling beneath them.

Oh, right. He'd just spilled his guts all over the floor.

Gross. Disgusting, even, and guilt nips at him when she scrapes the heel of her shoe against the floor. The residue smears across the floor and Korekiyo pulls him to his feet before his brain can even consider worsening the mess. Not like he'd be able to vomit anything other than bodily fluids at this point; yesterday's lunch was cloaked in saliva and chyme.

Disgusting is the right word for it. Has a bit more depth than gross, Gonta thinks.

His legs don't collapse beneath him this time, fortunately. They wobble from time to time, but are secure and keep him upright. Probably because someone's holding him up. Korekiyo has some difficulty with being used as a crutch, but they manage; doesn't stop them from grumbling about their body feeling 'too hot' for their liking. They shift uncomfortably every ten seconds or so.

Ah. That's probably _their_ form of constant torment; burning sensations. What a pain, this whole ordeal was. Gonta was just hoping it'd be over within the span of a week or so, as unlikely as that would be. Monokuma always liked keeping things lengthy.

After all, it's been two days since Mukuro and Ibuki's deaths.

The thought of their corpses being swept away like broken glass makes Gonta grimace, and Kiyotaka sends him a concerned look before bending over to bow. Mondo worriedly reminds him to keep his head away from the ground, prompting the rule-abiding male to rise with haste.

"I apologize for making you anxious, Gokuhara-kun!" His voice is at a lower volume this time, lacking the passionate edge that'd been sharpened like a blade. Perhaps he'd used the last of that edge when he was talking about the prime flaw of the motive, although nobody was buying it.

For the most part, anyways, because people _here_ could become their headmaster's victims. People like Kirumi and Korekiyo, like Gundham and Kaede; good people, people who didn't deserve the fate served to them on a crimson platter. The ursine would be all-too-happy to execute someone on the spot, Gonta's sure of it.

"I.. must admit; it was inconsiderate of me to assume everyone would be okay with hearing such a thing. On another note, I recommend getting some water and laying down to rest! Retching so abruptly—in succession, might I add—is a sign that you're stressed, and we can't allow ourselves to play into the hands of Monokuma like this!"

( _Kiyotaka is bad at reassuring people, Gonta realizes._ )

( _Or maybe he's just having a hard time processing this. That's always a possibility._ )

Gonta's mouth tastes like vomit. He furrows his brow and glares at the floor, all while Korekiyo steadies him and removes his weight off their body. Their roll their shoulders, looking awfully sluggish as they take a step away from the puddle in front of the former. Said former takes a step back as well; considering his lack of footwear, advancing wouldn't end well for him.

The Ultimate Maid regards him with indifferent, yet tired eyes before trotting off. Probably going to find a mop or the like, as she didn't seem too keen on leaving the residue there. After all, she preferred clean spaces over all else. Extremely deserving of her title, if only for her continued devotion to cleanliness and other maid stuff.

Footsteps approach swiftly—right, someone ran off while he was emptying his stomach—and something cold is shoved into his hands. He glances down and realizes that he's holding a glass of water. Small pieces of ice float on the surface, indicating that the liquid was once frozen or the like.

Not like Gonta knew if people put ice in their water or not.

The concept was bizarre to him. A lot of things were bizarre to him, primarily when he's never seen said things in his life. This was one of those things, but he wasn't about to ask someone about it.

"Here," a soft voice, serene with a harmonic lilt to it, "I hope this helps with your throat."

Gonta trusts that voice. It's a nice voice; a nice, gentle voice.

With little haste, the entomologist took a couple gulps of the liquid before deciding that he doesn't like cold things. Doesn't go well with his teeth, which send uncomfortable shivers down the slope of his spine whenever the water brushes against them. God forbid the ice touches his teeth, too, because that makes him stifle a hiss and come _this_ close to choking on his beverage.

His hands are still cold when he finishes his fair share of the drink; a little more than half of it's gone, as he has no intentions of drinking the entirety of it. For the time being, that is, because he didn't want to puke again.

He holds out the item to whomever handed it to him in the first place, not bothering to look at them when the glass is taken from him.

( _He focuses on the sound of their voice; lo and behold_ _, it's Sayaka. How nice of her._ )

Instead, he rubs his hands together, brings them to his mouth and huffs. Korekiyo rubs his back and he bristles, causing the anthropologist to pull away and apologize quietly under their breath. Reminds him of Mikan and how she cowers whenever someone does something nice for her, as if she's expecting to be belittled or something. Another thought comes to mind, and it explains both of their behavior.

Trauma. Pure, unadulterated trauma. A shame, really; the both of them could've been far greater than this, but Monokuma had to come in and mess it up for everyone. Not only that, but the both of them were acting dangerously similar to the other.

For a moment, Gonta thinks Mikan was previously put in a situation akin to Korekiyo's, but he banishes the thought in favor of watching Kirumi mop the floor. There's no reason to go diving into someone's personal business, especially when it's as severe as _that_. He'll learn about it when he learns about it; for now, making assumptions wouldn't do him any good.

Not only that, but he has his own problems to sort through.

Which is why he decides to observe Kirumi for a while, because he's not going back to his cabin. Not right now, even though Kiyotaka suggested to do so. He'd prefer to laze around in the kitchen with someone who is incapable of incapacitating him, quite honestly.

Call it cruel or inhumane, but Gonta wants to be safe. Hanging out with someone who can't move their arms nor legs happens to be the best way of achieving said goal. For now, at least, because he's sure Monokuma could easily snap his neck if it ever were to come to that.

( _No, Monokuma would execute him and label it as a murder._ )

( _.. Gonta's mouth tastes like ice._ )

Kirumi eyes him for a moment before getting back to work. She pays him no mind after that. Perhaps she was right about what she said earlier; ' _I won't be around to remind you_ ,' or something like that. Gonta was still trying to comprehend everything as of right, with the whole vomiting ordeal and whatnot.

He assumes that she was alluding to something greater, like independence or the like. He was definitely relying on her more than just occasionally, that's for sure. That had to be it, because Kirumi was incapable of spouting nonsense, even if she was in a sluggish state.

She's wise, he reminds himself. She's wiser than him and older and _knows everything and everyone._ Kirumi puts effort into everything, even when she's low on sleep. That's why she's cleaning up his mess, even with her sunken eyes and fluttering lids.

Sayaka, who holds his half-finished glass with steady hands, holds the glass out for him again. With a small nod of appreciation, he takes it and chugs the rest of it down; he does his best to ignore the iciness that invades his senses, even if it's all just futile in the end. It takes his mind off of things for a moment, at the very least, and he's glad Sayaka took notice of his thoughtfulness.

Assuming those invasive, piling thoughts could be classified as 'thoughtful' or anything akin to said word.

She takes the glass from him once he finishes, stepping around Kirumi's working form and trotting off. One part of Gonta suspects she got the glass from a different section of the dining hall—definitely not the kitchen area where Nagito was being held captive, because nobody seems to want to go back there. Besides, she would've come from behind him if that was the case.

Sayaka doesn't seem like the type to coexist with Nagito.

"Gokuhara-kun," Kiyotaka's voice interrupts his thoughts and he stiffens like a board. Not for the first time, definitely not for the first time. "You should go get some rest, maybe lay down to ensure that you won't throw up again. Keep drinking water periodically to wash down.. y'know."

Kokichi, the little gremlin and _annoyance_ , pitches in. "Oh, oh—I can take him back to his cabin!"

( _How troublesome.._ )

His proclamation is met with steely gazes and looks of concern are thrown in Gonta's direction. The former doesn't care in the slightest, as per usual, and strides over leisurely as Gonta takes a step away from Kirumi's kneeling form; she's scrubbing the floor with a sponge. Where did she get that?

Not important. Kirumi probably walks around with cleaning supplies all the time.

Korekiyo steps between Gonta and Kokichi, eyes narrowed. If their mask wasn't covering the lower portion of their features, Gonta could've sworn that they were scowling; then again, their furrowed brow and the intensity of their gaze were really selling it for him. Kokichi halts and peers up at them, expression melting into one of annoyance.

What a coincidence.

Before anything else can happen, Mondo grunts. His eyes are lidded, clouded with indifference and mild boredom. There's a softness in there, somewhere, but it's not for Gonta. It's just there, settled and fermenting deep within his irises. "I'll take him back to his cabin."

He advances, striding by Kirumi and seizing Gonta's shoulder. The latter flinches, almost jerks right out of his grasp, but the biker is surprisingly patient for someone with his title. When the entomologist relaxes, Mondo pulls him along until he begins to move on his lonesome.

Gonta can hear Kiyotaka's voice booming from the locale soon after their departure, directing people to get their breakfast and head straight to their cabins. He can hear Kokichi whining ( _he tries to tune it out—it doesn't work_ ), Chihiro's worried rambling and so much more. He nearly trips over his own feet whilst listening to them, so he decides to focus on walking.

A surprisingly comfortable silence is shared between the two of them. Mondo walks ahead of him, occasionally stopping to look over his shoulder and confirm that Gonta is in one piece—then he turns and the process repeats itself every fifty seconds or so. Gonta doesn't know; he doesn't pay attention to things like time very often.

The silence was nice while it lasted, at the very least. The biker turned his head five times, so approximately five minutes have passed. They've been walking in silence for five minutes, and, quite frankly, that's more than enough time to come to.

Well, for people who weren't dwelling on thoughts in a futile attempt to fill the silence, that is. He considers scratching out his lobes when the silence, finally, is pierced.

"Ah, is there room for one more?" It's not Mondo's voice, that's for sure, but it's one that he'd been listening to prior to this moment. Cautiously, the entomologist whips his head around to verify his thoughts. To some degree of surprise, his thoughts are right; this time, at least, because they've been doing cartwheels and barrel rolls lately.

It's Korekiyo, dressed in their fancy haori and military suit and large, white-laced boots. They're sweating a little, and Gonta is quick to assume that they jogged after Mondo and him. Must've been a real workout to run in that attire, especially with the sun beating down on them like so.

( _The day just got started and he's already going back to sleep._ )

( _He never got to see Mikan, either.. a bummer, really._ )

Mondo shrugs. "If you can keep up, I guess," is all he says in reply, tucking his hands into his pockets and going back to striding along the pavement. Every now and then, he'll kick up a rock, or maybe stop and stare at something in the distance. He's not gonna start a conversation, though, so Gonta relishes in the silence once again.

Korekiyo says nothing, either, so it makes it all the easier. They keep their distance, not as close as Kaede, not as far as Gundham—just a _distance_ and it proves to be quite comfortable. They proceed to travel in silence, wandering about instead of heading straight to the cabins.

Well, they're wandering around until they come across the store. Gonta's been in there already, but the other two act as if they've never knew such a place exists in the first place; ah, but that's probably the truth. After all, it's not like Gonta knows anything about what happened to the _real world._ Quite honestly, nobody knows what's going on out there, but it's bad.

Has to be, if some weird ursine like Monokuma managed to snag them up and drag them from the cold grasp of death.

( _Gonta misses that grasp. It was better than this._ )

The biker halts, fumbles with something in his pockets then sports a small grin. He angles his head toward the two, gesturing toward the store with a swipe of his eyes. "Eh, you want anything? I have some cash to burn."

"Rabbit apples," Gonta blurts, then cringes. He's not hungry, he swears, but he doesn't take it back. Korekiyo's hand—cold, somehow inviting compared to the sun's rays—hovers over his spine, but withdraws when the tips brush against the back of his vest.

Reasonable, he tells himself. It's reasonable because neither of them like touching or being touched. For entirely different reasons in entirely different regions.

Gonta just hopes that his flinching will die down soon. He doesn't know how much longer he can take this.

Korekiyo is quiet, even as Mondo bores holes into their very being with his cocked brow. They plop their concealed cheek onto their palm, tilting their head to the side to properly cushion said part of their face without causing discomfort; "Any books that you can find in there, please."

"Was expecting a food item, but alright. Stay there."

* * *

Gonta doesn't know how long it's been, but it's been a long time. Maybe an hour, maybe three hours, maybe more than that—he doesn't know and, because of Korekiyo's current condition, he can't be bothered to ask them what time it is. Their pocket-watch sounds from inside of its sealed capsule, ticking away as seconds pass the trio by.

It's only a matter of time before Monokuma pulls the trigger on _someone_. Gonta can only pray that it's someone out in the real world. He can't afford to watch a loved one or someone _else's loved one_ get executed right in front of them.

Another part of him hopes that Kiyotaka's correct; it's just a fear tactic, Monokuma wouldn't bring harm upon its students.

( _It would, it definitely would, it's doing that right now._)

Something nudges the entomologist's shoulder, causing him to come back to his senses. Korekiyo is sitting on his left, legs folded beneath their bottom as they flip through a book. One of the occult, probably, because they love that type of stuff. They love anything that has to do with the progression of people, even if it happens to involve the sacrifice of a child or two.

Mondo's on his right, of course, and he's the one responsible for nudging him back into existence. He gestures toward Gonta's untouched rabbit apples, which have begun to ferment in his palms already. They're sticky, oozing juice onto an already clammy surface—hurriedly, in an act to appease Mondo and not waste his money ( _or coins, if he was being specific_ ), he stuffs two of them into his mouth.

He chokes almost immediately. Korekiyo jumps, visibly frazzled, before beginning to beat the back of his neck—it doesn't do much, in all honesty. Mondo groans, seemingly disappointed with Gonta's rash action. Wasn't the smartest thing to do, he must admit to that, but he was panicking and didn't want Mondo to get upset with him.

"Don't choke on them," the biker chides, patting his back until he coughs up a shard of an apple. It skids across the pebbled ground, rendering it uneatable. For a human, anyways, because Gonta absentmindedly pops open his frog box and lets Jelly make a snack out of his failed meal.

Two pairs of eyes watch as he, carefully and gradually, swallows the remainder of the rabbit apples. They're soggier than before, soaked in both the sun's rays and his saliva tenfold; still tastes decent, at the very least, so he's happy in the end. Doesn't do much to fill his stomach, even if he doesn't have any issues with that.

Not like he was hungry or anything in the first place, y'know? You don't need to have food if you've got no appetite ( _lest someone forces food upon you and makes you realize how empty and void-like your stomach is right now_ ).

Korekiyo goes lax against the tree stump they were propped up against, peeling open the book and sliding to their most recent page. Their finger drags along the words, halting at the point where they'd stopped last; then they continue reading, eyes lidded and swirling with curiosity and amazement.

Once upon a time, Gonta wanted them to look at him like that. However, those times are ( _hopefully_ ) gone and he'd rather enjoy their company for once. Just once, before one of their pulses comes to a halt.

Mondo, on the other hand, pulls a candy cigarette from his pocket. One of the few things he'd bought, as there weren't any _real_ cigarettes in the store; Gonta recalls him cussing under his breath about it, but buying a large pack of candy ones. To compensate, perhaps, because he rolls it back and forth along his tongue, glaring at the slowly drowning sun.

It casts a light on the waters in front of them. None of them find the view pretty, because they know what lives in the water and they know what happens if they get any ideas. They'll die, and that'll be the end of the line for them. It won't be the death they crave—quick and painless, a reliever of sorts.

So, because it was silent once again, Gonta thinks of things. It goes downhill as fast as he thought it would.

Everyone's messed up on this forsaken island; assuming this is a real island, which it probably isn't. Can't judge someone without judging yourself first and foremost. Maybe that's why Gonta was only mildly disheartened by Nagito's mental health. He just needs time combined with hefty doses of self-care and therapy. That much could be said for just about everyone, quite honestly.

 _That's_ disheartening, because some people won't get to close their scars. They'll be dead before they can do that.

"How long have we been sittin'?" Mondo looks to Korekiyo, who's already popping open their pocket-watch. They stare at it for a long while before closing it, tugging a leaf off a nearby plant and pushing it between the pages of their book.

".. A little more than three hours. I think; I didn't check the time before we sat down, my apologies." Something tells Gonta that Korekiyo's lying, because they'd barely made a dent in that thick novel of their's, but he's tired. What would Korekiyo get out of lying? An extra three minutes of lazing around in the sand, getting small splinters and whatnot stuck in their hair?

No, that wasn't a lie. Gonta was just.. oh, he was starving himself, wasn't he? That's why his brain was scrambled. He needed _food._ Definitely explains why he scarfed the bunny apples down at the speed of light ( _other than to keep Mondo from getting upset with him_ ).

Mondo notices his turmoil. If anything, he'd been _waiting_ for this moment, because he grumbles something and pushes two candy cigarettes into Gonta's hands. They're chocolate, although they reek of strawberries. Probably has something to do with the insides of them or something. At least they smell appetizing.

After a bout of fumbling, he manages to snack on both of them, narrowly avoiding puking it all up due to how haphazardly he'd thrown them into his mouth. He should _really_ stop doing that, he reminds himself, knowing that he wouldn't follow his own advice anytime soon regardless.

( _Never hurts to try, Gonta supposes._ )

( _Until it does. That's when he stops trying and does something else._ )

Their volunteered guide rises with a huff, hands hiding themselves in pockets once more. He yawns, exposing surprisingly sharp and honed teeth, before snapping his mouth shut and rolling a candy cigarette along his tongue. It's melting and dissolving because of the saliva, but he treats it like a normal, lit cigarette, huffing around it before munching.

At least he's aware that it is, in fact, a piece of candy that should be consumed. Then again, that's a given; it's in the name, after all.

Mondo's eyes flick in the direction of the dining hall wearily. Searching, observing—anticipating and waiting for someone to enter his line of sight. "Think we should head to the cabins?"

Gonta nods, pulling himself out of the sand when he notices that Korekiyo is already standing. For a moment, that is, cause Gonta's taller than both of them and looms without meaning to. None of them are deterred by this, fortunately, or this would've been a lot more tense.

"Before we go," Korekiyo begins. "It is currently seven o'clock in the evening. In three hours.. Monokuma will show us if it was bluffing or not."

Gonta grimaces, clenching his fists at the reminder that someone ( _or two people, if that even counted, but Gonta doubts it_ ) could be slaughtered like a sheep. Mondo makes a low noise of discontent, slouching and bending his knees to accommodate the new positioning.

They revel in the silence for a little longer. It's only a matter of time before the fiendish motive's base is unsheathed and put on display. Kaede definitely had to be looking into this with Kiyotaka, seeing as how she was practically a detective and Kiyotaka already had his doubts about the motive initially.

With a deep breath, Mondo steps away from the two and looks to the cabins—the path that leads to them, anyways. "Alright, enough moping around. We'll see what that bastard does when it does it. 'til it does, we've got other things to worry about." He unbends his knees, but remains slouched over.

Not a posture a gentleman would assume, but Gonta doesn't think it's important right now. Won't be important later, either, because he's still fretting on about how this'll play out—

* * *

_♩ ♫ ♬ ♩ ♫ ♬_

_"A body has been discovered!"_

_♩ ♫ ♬ ♩ ♫ ♬_

* * *

Gonta, in that moment, goes pale. All that time that was spent calming down, taking in the ambiance of Korekiyo turning pages and Mondo spitting out chunks of his candy that were too stale—it's all hone in the blink of an eye. Sweat gathers on his hands, which he claps over his mouth to keep his recently consumed snacks from pouring out. They don't come up, they show no signs of popping out, but he's _terrified_ _of what this means because someone's dead and Monokuma could've struck early._

( _They had more time than that, right? When did he wake up today?_ )

Korekiyo's no better than him, sickly pale skin growing paler—like Nagito's, in a way, but their skin is cleaner and significantly less blemished. They look like a sheet, and remain still, limbs locked in place. The novel begins to slip from their grasp, but they come to their senses and cling it to their chest, but their gaze is frantic and worried.

Mondo remains still, looking as bothered as he was when Sayaka announced the first death, the first _murder._ His pupils, purple and clouded, shrink and tremble. Just like Kiyotaka's when he was trying to convince everyone that it'd be okay, that it was a hoax and they needed to _stay calm._

Nobody listens to anything anymore. Not when Monokuma threatens to kill someone they care about. For the umpteenth time, Gonta thinks: he doesn't blame them. He can't, because he'd thought of doing the exact same thing as soon as Kiyotaka started his speech.

( _The knife is still there, if he thinks enough. It's heavier in his hands than before._ )

( _Maybe it's the guilt._ )

The announcement was sudden, unanticipated, and they didn't know where the body was. _Other people_ found a body that they didn't know about until now. Gonta knew someone would die, he _knew_ someone would cave and murder someone, but he was too caught up in the serenity.

Temporary bliss, one could say.

It's always temporary, isn't it?

" _SHE'S DEAD!!_"

Someone screams, and Gonta's legs react before _he_ can. Korekiyo yelps from behind him when he takes off, whereas Mondo barks something unintelligible before he can hear hurried footsteps—running, they're both running after him because he knows where that scream came from. He takes a left, a right, goes straight—

With dread overtaking his person, he stumbles into the hotel lobby; he'd only been there with Gundham and Kaede, but it wasn't harboring any good memories as of right. His heart beats in his throat, choking him and making him sputter because he hasn't ran in a _long time_. He thinks he may hurl again, but holds it together long enough to scramble forward and follow the continued screaming.

It gets louder..

" _WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER, NURSE GIRL?!"_

_"I-I DIDN'T DO A-ANYTHING!"_

Louder, louder and louder..

 _"P-please, stop f-fighting_ _—!"_

_"YOU'RE JUST GONNA LET HER GET AWAY WITH THIS?!"_

Then he stops, and Mondo nearly bumps into his back. Korekiyo treads around the two, only to seize up and clap their hands over their mouth. Mondo nearly barks at him, but quiets down and steps to the side; he, too, goes deathly still and stares at the scene before them.

The lobby is spacious, Gonta knows this. Lined with pristine carpets, made of a quality material that resembles animal wool—or fur, one of the two. From what he's seen, the place is well-kept and rarely ever has a speck of dirt laying around. However, today is a rare day. An immensely rare day, because his eyes are trained on the blood seeping into the rich material.

It's a deep, ugly red that reminds him of splatter, the cracking of bones—so many things that make his stomach twist in knots and tighten, keeping him from coordinating himself the way he wants to. He has no control over his life, not anymore, not at this point. His legs tremble and Mondo's arm is the only thing that keeps him from falling.

Ah. This is familiar, it's all familiar, but Korekiyo's here this time. And some others, whom are bickering loudly and and tearing at each other's throats whilst one of them sobs over the corpse spread across the floor.

Mikan's tearing out her hear, screeching in retort to accusations being thrown at her. No clumps come out, not yet, but the hair seems to be straining against her scalp and watching it makes Gonta hiss through his teeth. The person accusing her is none other than Miu, who's shaking Kiyotaka—he's on standby, staring blankly at the body with terrified and tired eyes, hands wrung together as he lets the both of them scream.

There's a flicker of white in his hair. A spark, maybe, that sizzles along his scalp before dissipating.

Gonta takes a step forward, then another, steadying himself.

Kaede's crying beside the corpse, having long since given up on trying to reason with the others. She tries to wipe her face of tears, but they keep falling out, and she soon succumbs to hanging her head and sobbing uncontrollably. It's ugly, it's incredibly ugly, the way snot dribbles from her nose and her eyes gradually gain a red puffiness about them.

Some tears pelt the dead, scarred body. Cautiously, Gonta stands beside it, and stares at the screaming girls. Miu's still going at it, but Mikan's gone quiet ever since she noticed Gonta's presence; she stares up at him with terrified, fearful and teary eyes, trembling and _this_ close to having another meltdown like before. Her bottom lip trembles and it's difficult to pry his attention away from Kaede's choking, blubbering sobs.

It hurts. Everything about this _hurts_ and he can't do anything about it, which significantly worsens the situation as a whole.

"I'm sorry," Mikan whispers, voice hoarse from the screaming. She falls to her knees, just as Miu's voice drops into a croak and she, too, begins to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, _please_ forgive me _,_ I _swear_ I didn't mean it _—_ "

Gonta doesn't touch her. He knows better than to touch someone in this state, so, instead, he turns to look at the body again.

"Hey, take some deep breaths," Korekiyo coos to Mikan, hovering over her protectively. They don't touch, but they make themselves known. "You don't need to apologize. It's.. it's okay, you're gonna be okay. Deep breaths, deep breaths."

Mikan hiccups and chokes on sobs, but tries her best to comply.

( _This is not okay, tell her the truth, don't lie to her. Don't tell her that this is gonna be okay._)

Mondo, slowly, walks around the body. He looks visibly appalled, just as appalled as he was when they found Ibuki's laceration-lathered corpse, but crouches and tries his best to pull Kaede away from the body. She goes limp in his arms, sobbing reduced to dry heaves and small, weak whimpers and wheezes.

Her puffy eyes crack open to let more tears stream down her cheeks and it burns Gonta's soul to the core. It's significantly worse than the sobbing. So, so much worse.

"Eh.. I.. understand your pain, but y'gotta breathe." He hoists her up a little, but ultimately places her down when he realizes how wobbly her legs are. She can't even form a proper sentence to reply with, simply deciding to cling to herself and assume fetal position. Her beret flops onto the floor with the movement.

Mondo remains standing at her side, not wanting to sit on the carpet. That side's wet with blood.

Gonta focuses on the body again before shutting his eyes, clenching them shut tightly and hoping that he wasn't seeing things. Hoping that this was just a nightmare generated by God knows what, that he'd wake up and do what a normal young adult typically did and _live_.

He opens his eyes. He sees the same corpse and he feels sick.

There, laying on the carpet with sprawled out limbs and lidded, distant eyes—eyes that harbored confidence and loyalty once, when a pulse ran through her body—with blood oozing from from her face, painting the carpet and those who've dropped to their knees—is the dead body of **Tenko Chabashira, the Ultimate Aikido Master.**

Gonta remains dormant, listening to the cries of the others. Kiyotaka stands still, too, and says nothing. They both stare at the body.

Not like they can do anything else.

( _Why did they have to suffer all over again?_ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter Two: The Gift Of The Chrysanthemums - KILLING LIFE BEGIN**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 22**


	12. The Gift of The Chrysanthemums (Killing Life)

Like last time, Gonta doesn't move as the lobby is flooded with his remaining classmates. He stifles a grimace at the word; classmates, as if this was some school where they murdered someone occasionally. In a way, it was, because they were assigned a motive and someone would follow through with it, only to get punished at the end of it all.

Depressing. Completely and utterly depressing, but they had no choice. It was either one person or a handful of them, depending on how many people happen to care. From the looks of it, most of them do.

This was far too easy for Monokuma. After all, the people who were brought back from the dead were awfully caring. They were good people, and this was proven to be nothing more than a mere flaw. Since they cared so much, this was their fate.

Tenko, much like Ibuki and Mukuro, did not deserve this fate.

Kaede was practically catatonic at that point, still curled in her little ball with tears staining her cheeks. Eyes that were once whimsical and filled to the point of overflowing with curiosity were dull, staring off into the distance with a scary indifference. She's deathly still; she looks _dead_ , but she's breathing.

Unlike the bloodied and desecrated corpse laying in front of them. There is no gradual rise and fall of her chest. There is no twitch of the lips, the brow, no twitching at all. She is still, and remains so for a prolonged period of time.

The aikido master will not wake up. Even when Mikan feebly nudges her arm, or when Miu utters something to Tenko under her breath. Pain oozes off of them like a wafting scent, much like the putrid stench that clambered through the halls ( _and broken_ _ventilation_ ) of the previous locale.

This time, however, there is a clear source. Said source comes from a mixture of blood and someone else's tears.

A pity, truly, that it had to come to this, but there was little time to dally.

( _Personally, Gonta never got to know Tenko._ )

( _He's guilty to admit that, as of right, he feels a little indifferent about her death._ )

( _Gonta cannot speak for the others. Gonta can never speak for the others._)

Kirumi stands at his side, lifting a droopy hand to squeeze his shoulder. It's supposed to be reassuring, but it only fills the entomologist with dread; just another reminder of how little he actually _cares_ about a good majority of the people from his killing game, even after claiming to keep everyone safe and in one piece.

Korekiyo, Kaede and Kirumi are the ( _active_ ) exceptions. Almost comical how all of their names start with a 'K', with the exclusion of one person in particular. He had since lost his title of importance, all because of his own actions that negatively affected Gonta.

Oh, how _negative_ his actions were. They still are, to this day—if the days passed them by in the first place.

A familiar mixture of black and white clambers from behind one of the many pillars keeping the lobby upright. Monokuma looks tipsy, almost, sauntering and nearly stumbling over its legs as it nearly pours a good fraction of liquor onto the reddened carpet. Kirumi, unlike all the other times, remains taut, choosing to peel her eyes away from the encroaching ursine.

As if the robotic piece of work could get _drunk_ , Gonta muses grimly. Such a foolish thought, but he felt slightly entertained.

Not the time to be entertained, of course, because he's standing in front of a corpse with several sobbing individuals. At least Mikan and Kaede have calmed themselves a little, although Miu is a completely different situation and Gonta assumes someone's crying behind him. Probably another one of the girls.

Tenko was friendly with the girls. _Only_ the girls, because she didn't trust the male majority.

Monokuma stumbles over to the scene, shakily putting the glass to its mouth and tilting its head back—to no surprise, the liquid slides right off its mouth, but some of it manages to seep through the sealed teeth and slightly lowered mandible. Otherwise, it drenches the already stained carpet and a good portion of Tenko's aikido pants with alcohol.

Again, a pity.

Korekiyo, with the gentleness of some sort of mother, pulls Mikan away from the body. She resists at first, not thrashing but tightening her posture and pressing her weight into her feet in an attempt to remain still, but it wears off after a moment; akin to Kaede, she goes slack and allows herself to be pulled away.

It's for the best, really, because Monokuma trips over Tenko's leg and spills the rest of the alcohol _everywhere_. Gonta has to take a step back to ensure that it doesn't get onto his pants legs, much less his feet.

There is a loud crack behind him, or maybe a snap. He chooses not to spare a glance, because he knows what happened: Kirumi is there, wielding her broom, now snapped in two and spitting splinters into the carpet's foundation. She watches Monokuma with a deathly gaze, glowering and unrestrained.

The ursine doesn't care. Or, perhaps, it's far too intoxicated to notice. One of the two, surely.

Monokuma hiccups, the sound strangely human-like as it falls onto its belly. It retches once or twice; as if it's _mocking_ Gonta; before fishing out a file from beneath it, dripping the fluids that were stored within its stomach department.

Rather than reeking of vomit, the sticky and unpleasant stench of liquor fills the air. It's just as bad as the vomit, in Gonta's opinion, but that's only because he was against indulging in such fluids. Once again, it's for the best.

"Here's the file, ya—" it hiccups again, a small burp following it before going slack. "—ya idiots.."

( _Troublesome.._ )

Mondo rips the file from the intoxicated ursine's clutches, immediately taking a step away when it sinks into the carpet. It's not long before it falls apart completely, although they all know that Monokuma isn't dead. Not after something as intentional as that, anyways.

For that moment, their tormentor is intangible, but gone. If _only_ for that moment.

The biker grumbles something about how annoying Monokuma is ( _no, he says something far more profane, but Gonta doesn't want to repeat those words_) before peering down at the file. He squints before beginning to read it aloud, although he does wait until Mikan and Kaede's sniffles die down significantly.

How thoughtful of him.

( _Thoughtfulness won't bring them back._ )

"The victim is Tenko Chabashira. The time of death is estimated to be around seven in the evening. The body was discovered by four people, the final founders being Kiyotaka and Miu. Cause of death is identified to be from a severe head injury." He drops it as soon as he finishes reading it, gagging at the residue left on his hand from touching the file.

Kiyotaka goes pale at the final words; 'severe head injury'. He grips his arms and another wisp of white dances along his hair, followed by small streaks of red. Gonta wants to ask what that is, what's _happening_ to Kiyotaka, but now's not the time. Not when everyone's lives were being put on the line once again.

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Monokuma File #2**

**A folder with the second murder case's details written in it.**

**'The victim is Tenko Chabashira. The time of death is estimated to be around seven in the evening. The body was discovered by four people, the final beholders being Kiyotaka and Miu. Cause of death is identified to be from a severe head injury.'**

* * *

"We should start by looking at the different places in the hotel," someone pipes up.

To some's surprise, it's Celeste, who's flattening out her gambling suit and watching everyone with a callous gaze. She, unlike the majority of the other girls, remains indifferent about Tenko's demise. "That's the best way to gather clues, is it not?"

Kaede sniffles again, picking up her beret and securing it to her head. She says nothing, looking away from the others with puffy, bloodshot eyes. Occasionally, her body will quake with another stifled sob, but she's holding herself together.

Barely.

Mikan rises to her feet, albeit she stutters a little in her footing and has to use Korekiyo as a stabilizer. However, once she's on her feet again, she bites her bottom lip and tugs it further into her mouth. Much like Kaede, she says nothing, and allows Celeste to order people into groups—regardless of whether they've began to cry or not.

She's leader material. Not a compassionate leader, but a leader nonetheless.

( _Not all leaders are good people_. _Some of them are bad people. Really, really bad people._ )

( _Why can't he stop thinking about the past?_ )

Celeste works quicker than the others, pointing groups in different directions and giving them instructions on how to scan the location. And, for the most part, it goes off without a hitch—sure, some people are emotionally wrecked or white as a sheet, but they're still competent enough to follow orders. Like sheep being herded on a ranch, perhaps, but Gonta doesn't know anything about herding sheep.

They're probably very easy to herd, hence the saying. Either that, or they're mindless, which doesn't sit well with Gonta.

The gambler looks at him—her red eyes scan him up and down before relenting, shifting to the side to focus on something else. She then makes a small gesture with a hand, waving them off as she begins to trot after one of the groups that were dispatched.

"I suppose I'll leave you to investigate the main lobby room." Celeste stops, looks at the smaller group over her shoulder—because the others were taken away and put into a _different_ group with slightly more functional people ( _depending on the group, that is_ ).

"Do all of us a favor and find something to present as evidence. It would be in your best interest, don't you think?"

She smiles, an upturn of lips that doesn't near her eyes, before taking her leave. Gonta wonders if she, too, is a liar. After all, she's the Ultimate Gambler.

No, that doesn't justify anything. Gonta knows nothing about the art of gambling, nor does he know how to count to thirty.

Celeste taught him how to play Go Fish. She didn't teach him how to define the ulterior motives of someone who takes other's belongings as a talent. The thought is washed away by the tide, reminding him of the dire situation they've been placed in.

There's a dead body at his feet, partially soaked in alcohol thanks to Monokuma. He decides that the odor—the smell of a corpse tangles with the aching scent of liquor—is far worse than it was prior to the headmaster's abrupt _(yet anticipated_ ) appearance.

Mondo, with a great bout of reluctance, hooks his arms under Kaede's arms and lifts her up. She startles into motion, seizing up and planting her feet on the ground haphazardly whilst the biker attempts to calm her down. It's not long before she blinks—once, twice—and begins to steady her emotions.

It's better than remaining inconsolable, at the very least.

Mikan watches forlornly as Korekiyo bows their head, following after Celeste's gradually vanishing form. Her legs are still wobbly and she's trembling like last time, worrying her bottom lip. As anxious as always, even if Gonta wasn't sure if she was _always_ like this. After all, she'd locked herself in her old dorm and this was the first time he'd seen her around.

Seeing her in front of a body, crumbling and screaming at someone who accused her of murder.. it really just reminded him of what happened at the first trial. Alas, this wasn't the time to think about how they'd condemned someone to a death sentence shortly after a murder took place.

Three people are gone. A fourth will be en route to join them in due time—an hour or two, going off of the previous time limit.

"G-Gonta—" Said entomologist stiffens and bites back a low, displeased noise that gathers in his throat—"I still need to r-repay you for the l-last investigation.."

The nurse straightens up to the best of her ability, still quaking like a car engine and nearly collapsing due to the unsteadiness of her legs. She steels her gaze, unaware of how uncomfortable she's made Gonta ( _he can handle this, he can handle this_ ). But she's trying to be helpful, and he can appreciate that.

To an extent. The sudden usage of his given name deters him ever so slightly.

"L-let me help with your investigation! I-I'll do anything you say, promise!" And Gonta has no reason to say no, because Mondo's ready to lay out the basics of what to _not_ do when hanging around him and Kaede's making a gradual recovery.

Gonta lets loose small sigh ( _because he's tired and should've listened to Kiyotaka—who got dragged away by Chihiro mere moments ago—when he said to rest_), regarding the nurse wearily. She's being sincere about it, he knows that, but he has to double-check. He refuses to have a rerun of displaced trust, especially when he was distancing himself from the primary source of his trauma.

Well, he's assuming that _this_ is trauma. This is probably one of his more accurate assumptions, to say the least—

".. Can you do an autopsy?"

Mondo interjects his thoughts, prompting him to take another step away from the group. "We're already low on time from waiting 'round for the goth lady to sort us into groups." Somehow, he manages to look a little more annoyed than usual when Celeste is mentioned; Gonta decides to not comment on it.

After all, they _are_ wasting time conversing like this.

Much like Gonta, Mikan seems to have forgotten about the nearby corpse, because she whips her head toward it and quivers. After taking in a deep breath and nibbling on her lips a little more, she drops to her knees—which are covered by a long, white overcoat paired with leggings—and gets to work.

She's probably burning up in that hefty outfit of hers, although it probably helps that it isn't black. Gonta can barely recall reading something about the people who wore that stuff; plague doctors, right? He's not too sure of himself at the moment.

A vaguely bird-like mask is strapped to the side of her head, and Gonta wonders what plights could possibly ensue with such an object.

( _Does he really want to know?_ )

As Mikan cradles Tenko's head and runs her gloved hands over it, Kaede clears her throat. The sound is small, just barely getting Gonta's attention; Mondo takes a small step away from her, only to return back to the spot when she waves him over. She leans on him a little, shuddering out a small, wispy sigh of exhaustion.

"I can search over here with Oowada-kun." Kaede glances over at said male for confirmation, looking away when he replies with a silent nod. "Do you think you can check over there while Mikan.."

The pianist grimaces a little, prompting Gonta to turn and play his part.

The lobby feels as if it's been decimated—in truth, only a few objects have been upturned, alongside the minimal property damage. Well, it's not minimal, because there's a window with missing glass and one of the potted plants near said shattered window is laying on its side, spilling dirt onto the ground. Those.. could count as clues, right?

Discarding the fact that everyone _most likely_ noticed those aspects, Gonta ventures closer to the damage. He narrowly avoids stepping on glass, wincing softly at the idea of pulling shards from the bottom of his foot later on. Definitely would be a good waste of time if he managed to damage himself like that, to be honest—and, at the moment, wasting time wasn't something anyone could afford to do.

He looks over the broken glass before stopping at the window—there's a black strip of fabric stuck on what little is left on the window, showing that the culprit _jumped through the window to escape._ For a moment, the entomologist stops to think about what could possibly gained out of doing that, but settles on knowing that anyone with a black piece of clothing is now a culprit.

.. If they're counting leggings, then this doesn't do much to aid the investigation. Regardless, he yanks it off the piece of glass it'd been attached to—causing said piece of crumble off and hit the floor, joining the others—and counting it as evidence, as insignificant as it was.

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Black Strip Of** ** Fabric ** ** **

**Just a piece of clothing—or legging—that got stuck on the window, most likely when the assailant was in the process of escaping. It feels pretty useless, to be honest..**

* * *

( _Guess it's time to look elsewhere, even if this was.. pretty useless.._ )

Deciding to spare a small moment of time—because it wouldn't hurt to do something as small as that, right?—Gonta looks over at the trio. Mondo's since parted from the group, crouching over something that Gonta can't see from where he stands. Whatever it is, it's obviously caught Mondo's eye and is, by default, important.

Kaede's still watching Mikan work, albeit reluctantly because he can still see sadness welling up in her eyes. She notices his gaze and, slowly, raises a hand to wave at him—she smiles, and it fails to reassure him that she's in a better mood. Perhaps she's only fallen deeper into the pit of sorrow.

Mikan is working on bringing up an autopsy, as expecting. However, unlike how fast it was for Ibuki's, she takes a longer time to access Tenko's wounds. The nurse cradles the corpse's head a little, weighing it in her hands before placing it down gently; she repeats the same steps over and over again, as if she's in a trance and isn't too sure of herself.

Gonta reminds himself that not everyone had the pleasure of not knowing the victim. He's one of the lucky ones.

It's strange to think of it like that—being lucky enough to not know someone, someone who could've been a friend if pursued long enough—but Gonta has been acknowledging his growth in negativity over the course of the past few hours. The feeling swells up erratically whenever he looks back over at the two, and, irrationally, he takes a step toward the door.

When Kaede quirks a brow at him, he forces a grin. "Gonta's gonna go look outside," he says, and she scrutinizes him for a long moment before nodding and returning her gaze to Mikan. The girl is still in that little world of hers, but it's none of Gonta's business. Not right now, anyways, because he's planning on looking outside.

Yeah. Looking outside. As soon as the doors are pushed open and shut behind him, he breathes out a sigh. Finally, he can breathe, albeit the air feels a little tight around his lungs.

It's probably because of the smell of death lingering nearby. Perhaps he should distance himself from it, at least for the moment. It was only a matter of time before it filled the air once more—just in a more.. confined environment, per say.

Gonta wanders around, eyes flicking over toward the broken window and the glass that spewed out of it. There's tints of blood left around the outline of it—right, someone got nicked and, most likely, left a trail of blood in their wake.

Well, it was an assumption; one that was, in due time, turned to fact when another trickle of it made itself known on the pathway. It looked like it was fermenting by the time the entomologist approached it, and he stares at it for a prolonged period of time before forcing his gaze to the side. He tries to focus on the tides, but the image of splattered blood stains his mind.

It is _not_ in his best interest to look at such things. Not with the things he'd been thinking about since last night. He refrains from pinching the bridge of his nose, instead choosing to breathe out a sigh.

( _His rapidly declining mental state makes it difficult to keep his thoughts from falling with it._)

Regardless, he decides that it's good enough evidence.

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Blood Trail**

**A trail of blood that originated from the broken window. Whoever's behind the murder got injured and made a run for it, but injured themselves in the process. It leads to the dining hall..**

* * *

Gonta stares off into the distance, a pregnant pause overcoming his thoughts—a good thing, definitely, but it was a bit gloomier considering the circumstances.

.. Asking the Ultimate Lucky Student for information counts as looking outside, does it not? After all, he _is_ outside of the area, and he didn't state his desired destination in the first place. Heading back to the dining hall would be in his best interest, anyways.

By the time he finishes the thought, he's already en route to said place. This better not be some big waste of time, since three pieces of evidence—no, the Monokuma File doesn't count, it's actually _two_ —isn't enough to carry on with a trial.

Well, others _could_ contribute; Celeste and Kaede were the two main contributors, if he was going off of the first trial. He's not the only one in the trial room, after all.

Anything to contribute to the class trial and avoid an unsavory death. Besides, Gonta wants to die on his own terms, not because some ursine didn't get enough bloodshed the first time. It was bad enough that Ryoma and Kiibo weren't here—although he should be happy about that, as they're not suffering anymore.

Perhaps that makes him selfish. And, for a moment, he considers the possibility.

The possibility lingers. Like most of his invasive thoughts and newfound emotions—the ones he wanted to rid of within seconds of obtaining them—it'll take a while to disappear. Maybe it will settle there, remaining in the back of his mind for the rest of eternity.

( _To be completely fair, he deserves this._ )

( _Gonta wasn't supposed to change._ )

In an attempt to divert his thoughts, even if it only lasts for a few seconds, Gonta pushes open the kitchen door. A familiar bundle of clothing paired with a white, mop-like head is still laying dormant on the floor. The entomologist hates how he compares the position with how Kaede was mere moments before, curled up and silently sobbing as if it would ease the pain in her heart.

Once again, he feels guilty for not caring. He's trying, at the very least, but he doesn't feel anything for Tenko. He never did, it would seem, and he hates that he's defied himself like this—told himself, in a past life, where his emotions were twisted this way and that, that he'd protect everyone.

Yet, he's already managed to lose three people. All because he had no control over anything and, as soon as he got his emotions injected back into his system, there was a concerning lack of compassion.

Gonta wouldn't go back to normal, though. Not while Kokichi was still alive and breathing and making an active effort to get _close_ to him. Far too uncomfortable, _way_ too uncomfortable.

Nagito remains still—it doesn't look like he's breathing, his posture akin to how deathly still Kaede'd been. For a moment—just a moment, no longer than a mere moment—Gonta thinks about nudging him with his foot, but he ultimately decides against it. That wouldn't be nice.

However, he's on a strict time limit and he doesn't want to be executed because he was being considerate. That'd just be another mistake on the chalkboard, wouldn't it?

"Komaeda-kun," Gonta speaks up, and said male bristles. The latter says nothing, although Gonta's tall enough to see him pulling his bound legs a little closer to his chest. Really makes him wonder what happened with him, especially considering the blood trail leading to the dining hall. Perhaps he _did_ know something.

"Komaeda-kun," Gonta repeats. "Did Komaeda-kun see someone run through here?"

Nagito says nothing. Instead, he pulls his legs even closer to himself and makes a low, near-unintelligible sound under his breath. Somehow, he manages to sound uncomfortable, although who could blame him?

( _Nobody, really._ )

Gonta begins to advance closer to the restrained individual, only to stop short when he notices glass lingering beside him. He wants to assume that Nagito's perfectly fine, since he's bound and obviously wouldn't be able to run around like that.. but the title of 'Ultimate Lucky Student' is something that keeps him on the defense.

No, that couldn't be right. Nagito may be some form of a madman— _insane,_ to quote Angie—but he's also some form of _intelligent._ He wouldn't endanger himself like that unless he had a death wish.

That, and his black jeans were untouched, aside from some pieces of glass being scattered along them. Without thinking, Gonta reaches over and brushes them off, choosing to shimmy around the broken glass and crouch down in front of Nagito's floored form—the male makes no move to conceal himself, much to the entomologist's pleasure.

"Answer the question, Komaeda-kun." Gonta bites his tongue when the lucky student looks up at him—he's reminded of how miserable he looked when Gonta came to feed him the first time, with bags under his eyes and hair far messier than it was previously. The dried blood from before is fermenting now.

"Well, I—" He hesitates, bites the inside of his cheek before inevitably continuing. "—I did. W-well, I think I did. There was.. a lot of blood.. but.. they got rid of it.. I think..?" For once, the male seemed to be shaken up, which immediately told Gonta that whoever did this wasn't from his killing game. If it was one of them, he'd immediately rat them out, spitting and unconcerned about their state of being.

.. Which meant that the culprit could've been from Gonta's killing game. Or Celeste's, which was just as likely with how many people had black articles of clothing. Ah, it really didn't narrow anything down _too_ much, but it was definitely something. Better than nothing, that's for sure.

Deciding to press on, just to see if Nagito could come out with something a little less vague, Gonta places a hand on Nagito's shoulder. The male flinches, but calms down relatively quickly whilst picking at his bindings, albeit does nothing in the end. ".. Does Komaeda-kun know who ran through?"

Nagito's pupils shrink a little, and Gonta decides that pressing was a bad idea.

Whoever passed through either terrified Nagito—which was a big mystery, as Nagito seemed relatively fine with everyone ( _aside from people from his killing game, of course_ ) and displayed little to no fear—or was someone he respected to the point of complete silence. With a sigh, Gonta stares at the pale male's form.

He's trembling a little, but that's all the movement that Gonta can see. Aside from the very gradual rise and fall of his chest, that is, but that was a given. He was alive, after all. People who're alive breathe.

( _That's an assumption._ )

Gonta thinks a little before taking Nagito's hands and tampering with the binds. Before Nagito can even utter a word, a question as to why Gonta's freeing him, the rope falls from his wrists and onto the glass painted floor. He immediately goes to rub at the sore parts of said limb, all while the taller of the two undoes the ropes around his feet, too. It takes only a few seconds for him to be freed.

Nagito opens his mouth—possibly to say something deranged, going off of his consistent trembling, but the crackling of an intercom interrupts him. He falls silent immediately, closing his eyes and, slowly, sitting up. He looks pained, but Gonta doesn't blame him for that. Those ropes looked awfully uncomfortable, as did the glass and fermenting blood that'd gathered beneath his wrapped arm.

Still wondering what caused blood to pour from the bandages, but they're probably there for a reason. A very, _very_ uncomfortable reason.

" _Tiiiimes up, my little cubs! Make your way to the elevator, or else I'll drag you there myself! You wouldn't want your ol' headmaster to drag ya, right?! Get off your asses and get going! Oh, and head to the beach for this one, upupupu!_ " It ends with the same unpleasant jingle as before.

( _This.. is a downgrade from all the evidence he had last time.._ )

Once again, the hope-lover opens his mouth to speak. This time, he isn't interrupted, much to his happiness. "What's with untying me? I.. I'm sure it'd benefit you if Monokuma were to ki—"

Gonta doesn't give him the chance to finish his sentence, grabbing his unwrapped arm and tugging him along. The male makes a couple of noises that suggest that he's still trying to get blood into his legs, but Gonta's not about to get _dragged_ to the trial room or something worse than that because he wanted to let some madman ramble a little longer than usual.

Besides, he got the information he wanted out of Nagito. He wasn't about to listen to his pessimistic rambling when he, himself was feeling awfully pessimistic. Those thoughts didn't need to resurface, not again, _not when he was trying his hardest to bury them._

"Tenko is dead." The sentence tastes sour of his tongue, reminding him that his indifference is there, that he's rather unfazed by the death—oh, but he's definitely been affected by the _way_ she died. Just not _her_ in particular, as bad as it sounded. "Gonta doesn't want to see another dead body."

Nagito somehow manages to hum around a wince. "That's a very hopeful vision, Gokuhara-kun.."

Gonta says nothing. He doesn't want to say anything—there's nothing _to_ say in this predicament, not to someone like Nagito Komaeda. It'd just lead to some sort of goose chase that'd never end, because Nagito already reverted back to his old self when he was outside of the kitchen.

.. Maybe he should keep Nagito away from the kitchen. Perhaps it sparked a bad memory when someone ran through, or maybe he panicked or the like. Maybe. There's no telling what's going on inside the dude's head, really, and Gonta's not sure that he's mentally stable enough to process said things that reside within Nagito's mind.

Another day. He'll think about that another day.

* * *

**< — Obtained Truth Bullet! —>**

**Nagito's Account**

**Nagito ended up seeing someone run through the kitchen, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. However, it's implied that they cleaned it with haste before, presumably, covering him with the excess glass and fleeing. He was far too shaken up to relay all of the information, implying that he's either scared of the assailant or has a respect-on-par-with-fear dynamic with them. Even so, he could be lying..**

* * *

The Ultimate Lucky Student continues to hang off his side, even when they approach the beach. However, even though Gonta's _absolutely positive_ that that piece of machinery wasn't sitting on the beach, it's definitely there; a lift of sorts that, without a doubt, is the elevator they're supposed to get on. After all, the likes of Kaede and Sayaka and Chihiro are already boarding it, distancing themselves from one another with bowed heads.

A shame that Tenko had to be the one who died, but Gonta would bring her justice. To some extent, that it, because he wasn't too sure of being able to carry the class trial by his lonesome. He'd definitely need some help from his peers..

Assuming that they found anything worth bringing to the table, that is. After all, it looks like the culprit didn't even have to go upstairs or anything; they just made a ran for it after letting Tenko bleed out on the ground or something like that.

.. That's a very bad way to die. Pretty darn painful, too.

"Oh, you brought.. Komaeda-kun." Kaede wipes at her eyes with the heel of her palm, whereas Nagito smiles cheerily at her, waving all the while. It's enough to make Gonta physically cringe a bit. He, too, lacks the right amount of empathy needed to openly care about the deaths of others. It's different from how Gonta feels, really, but there's a similarity there.

It's just hidden behind their respective motives. Nagito loves hope and everything and everyone associated with it, whereas Gonta.. well, Gonta doesn't quite understand anything and doesn't _want_ to. Regardless, he's still learning about things he'd rather remain blissfully unaware of, like his _mental health issues—_

The entomologist's thoughts are snapped in half—akin to a wire being snapped by scissors and being left to droop—when a hand squeezes his. It's not Nagito's, because the male is laxly hanging off of his arm and watching others get onto the platform, occasionally glaring at anyone he doesn't like. It's.. daintier, almost. A lot smaller than his own.

Warily, he glances over and, within an instant, relaxes. It's just Mikan, who's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Regardless, she attempts to put on a brave face, flashing a sad, sullen smile at him. It's a nice attempt to make him feel better. "H-hey, I didn't.. get to t-tell you what I found.. b-but that's okay..! I was helpful, right?"

"Gonta thinks Mikan was very helpful," he answers—and he's being honest, because he wouldn't lie to someone ( _because he wasn't going to stoop that low—he couldn't, he couldn't)_ about something like this. Mikan lights up ever so slightly, squeezes his hand again and looks forward. Her mood rose, if only a little, but if that's enough to keep her sane, then who's he to judge.

The lift groans a little before beginning to descend. Gonta wants to ask how the sand doesn't fall down and pile atop of them, as that was how gravity worked, but refrains. Monokuma was an entity, one that shouldn't exist; and yet, here it is, existing in their collective presence and dragging them from the _dead_ right back into this mess. He shouldn't question things like that.

Monokuma was capable of many things. This just happens to be one of them, it would seem. Nice that he doesn't have to think about getting sand poured into his already tangled and moderately sandy hair.

The lift clunks again before stopping, and the doors in front of them slide open gradually. Kaede's the first one to step out, then Nagito and Chihiro—then everyone's piling out, and Gonta's one of the last ones to step off the lift. It rises with haste, disappearing with another mechanical noise within seconds. Miu says something about how stupid it is, probably in an attempt to divert her attention from the new portraits.

Gonta frowns.

The familiar exploding head of Mukuro is displayed on over her podium, highly detailed gore creating the illusion of splattering against the hologram before withdrawing as her head explodes again—much like Ibuki's, it's a loop. A horrible, disgusting loop that'd definitely make him throw up if he had to look at it any longer. So, reasonably, he peels his eyes away from the hologram.

Tenko's is a little more bearable to look at. Blood cascades down the side of her face, eyes rolling back into her head and mouth agape, almost as if she's screaming for help. Gonta wants to claw out his eardrums from the prominent thoughts about Ibuki's screams for help, and he decides that Tenko's is not that bearable to look at. It's still horrible, it's _extremely horrible and he doesn't want to be near it anymore._

Kirumi, one of the few who stayed back, steps up beside him. She places a hand on his shoulder, squeezes then smiles serenely at him. Then, leaning forward, she speaks in a hushed whisper:

" _I know who it is._ " And she draws away, closes her eyes and goes to her stand.

Gonta stands idle for a moment longer before heading for his own stand, as Monokuma was eyeing him and leaning on a nubby paw. The maid's words rocked his brain, throwing whatever little fragments of calmness left in him to the fishes to dine on. She _knew_ who it was, and doesn't just start off the trial with that?

( _This really couldn't be any more disastrous.._ )

Kiyotaka's visibly distressed, but he's trying to hold it together. Another wisp of white appears and Gonta thinks it may just be his eyes acting up at this point, as he'd seen it several times already. It happens again and again, but nothing more comes out of it—he chalks it down as a hallucination and carries on with minding his own business.

( _But Kirumi knows the blackened, and will wait for the right moment to strike.._)

Rantaro breathes out a sigh beside him, arms crossed as he looks at the new holograms. He, too, appears to be disturbed by the animated images, but says nothing. He conducts himself only a little better than Kiyotaka, albeit the discomfort is _not_ hidden.

Gonta understands. He understands it all, and he doesn't want to. He clenches his podium and furrows his brow, virtual letters dancing around everyone like last time. Nothing's changed.

It won't ever change, he reminds himself, and his gaze steels itself.

Kaede nods to him from her podium, whilst Mikan tentatively glances over at Miu and cowers. Nagito smiles serenely, as if he hadn't been panicking on the kitchen floor, and Mondo huffs out a low, displeased noise.

" _ALRIGHT! Let's get this show on the road, upupupu!"_ Monokuma cheers drunkenly from its podium, only to revert back to normal and clap like an excited child. The glass is long gone, having been dropped whilst it was peering at the entering students. Seems like it never was drunk in the first place, little bastard..

Gonta grits his teeth and clenches his fists, all while Monokuma's laughter choruses through the locale. It may be annoying, but Gonta manages to keep his thoughts in line to form a goal. One that he plans on achieving, either the easy way or the hard way.

( _Gonta will make sure Tenko didn't die for nothing!_ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter Two: The Gift Of The Chrysanthemums - KILLING LIFE END**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 22**


	13. The Gift of The Chrysanthemums (Class Trial)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the trial is significantly worse than last time.

**Truth Bullet -** **Monokuma File #2**

**A folder with the second murder case's details written in it.**

**'The victim is Tenko Chabashira. The time of death is estimated to be around seven in the evening. The body was discovered by four people, the final beholders being Kiyotaka and Miu. Cause of death is identified to be from a severe head injury.'**

**\- - -**

**Truth Bullet -** **Black Strip Of** **Fabric** ** **

**Just a piece of clothing—or legging—that got stuck on the window, most likely when the assailant was in the process of escaping. It feels pretty useless, to be honest..**

**\- - -**

**Truth Bullet -** **Blood Trail**

**A trail of blood that originated from the broken window. Whoever's behind the murder got injured and made a run for it, but injured themselves in the process. It leads to the dining hall..**

**\- - -**

**Truth Bullet -** **Nagito's Account**

**Nagito ended up seeing someone run through the kitchen, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. However, it's implied that they cleaned it with haste before, presumably, covering him with the excess glass and fleeing. He was far too shaken up to relay all of the information, implying that he's either scared of the assailant or has a respect-on-par-with-fear dynamic with them. Even so, he could be lying..**

_**\- - -** _

_**CLASS TRIAL, ALL RISE!** _

_**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 22**_

* * *

The familiar, strangely sickening and funky music—the same music that'd blasted through hidden speakers whilst Mukuro was convicted of murder—fills the air. Bass thrums through the floors and Gonta has to steady himself, keep himself from folding over and spitting out his stomach.

He doesn't know these people. _He doesn't know these people, he swears that he doesn't._

( _Sympathy exists somewhere in his body, as does disgust. One emotion is familiar. The other, a new land to traverse._ )

Monokuma spins in place, legs swinging like a toddler. Far less baffling to look at in comparison to the first time around, definitely, but it's unnerving nonetheless. Perhaps it's because it's an ursine creature that speaks, one that torments them at any given moment and rips apart their undeveloped friendships.

Gonta has lost so many people. So many people that, in this very moment, he cannot bring himself to care for. Another stream of blood cascades down Tenko's animated face, all before rewinding and repeating the process all over again.

The sight is nauseating. And, yet, he looks. He looks and looks and cannot look away.

He doesn't want to lose that nauseousness. It means he's not used to this. That's all he asks for—to never grow used to _this._ The wish is awfully naive for someone attempting to be mature, someone attempting to be the _opposite_ of naive.

" _Allllrighty, folks!_ " Monokuma throws its arms up, halting in its spinning. The throne wobbles several times beneath the ursine, but doesn't give. It stands tall. "We'll get this show on the road in a second—I'm sure you're all _raring_ to kick this off and reveal the blackened, but our routine must be upheld!"

Taka shudders beside him. It is far from cold in the trial room—no, he shudders for an entirely different reason, one that Gonta cannot put into words. It is better to keep it like that, for he doesn't need to care for such trivial emotions.

Emotions are horrendous. They are disgusting, revolting, even. He need not to take on the emotions of a breaking man such as Kiyotaka.

Then he realizes that he's experiencing _disgust_ , and bites back a retch at his hypocrisy. Foul, absolutely foul.

Rantaro appears to be the only one aware of his current state—the male hovers a hand over his back, hesitant, before pulling it away at the last second. Gonta appreciates the concern, although he is incapable of accepting any physical comfort. Not during a trial, not when he was going to have _nightmares_ over another mutilated, executed corpse.

"A repeat of the lowdown is in order!" Monokuma's voice gnaws through his eardrums, which're forced to process and listen to the horrendous voice of his tormentor. "For the forgetful buncha idiots sitting here or at home—there's either one winner and," it does a hasty headcount, "twenty one losers! Or, best case scenario, there's twenty one winners and one loser! Regardless, the loser doesn't get to upkeep their free trial to livin' on this dandy island!"

"If ya take too long to vote at the end of the trial, too bad! We'll be having more than one loser in that case, upupupu!"

( _What a cheery way to put offing semi-innocent people.._ )

Then, without much fanfare, the bear flops onto its stomach and pretends to hiccup. Not pretending to be drunk, no, but it hits Gonta deep in his soul when he hears a small, obviously fake retch. This thing is _really_ mocking him for throwing up—!

"Okay! Get on with it, my little cubs!" The music kicks up a notch, forcing Gonta's attention elsewhere.

Vomit threatens to breach, but he swallows it down and staggers slightly. Rantaro steadies him with a hand, but ultimately pulls away when the entomologist steadies himself. At least he's trying to help—Kiyotaka's completely catatonic, eyes downcast as more blood gushes out of Tenko's bashed in skull. It rewinds once again.

She looks so _sad_. Nothing like the giant explosion of blood from Mukuro's screen, or the frothy bubbles pouring from Ibuki's. Her pupils are dilated, unlike Ibuki's, which roll to the back of her head with haste.

All of them make him sick to his stomach. Somehow, he manages to resist the urge to spill out his guts, because there's little-to-nothing in them as of right. Perhaps he should've eaten a _little_ more. Maybe he'd feel a bit better about all of this, stagger less and the like.

Gonta was a pitiful sight. That's what he thought, anyways, and he knows himself to a great extent.

Celeste wastes no time with starting the debate, raising a hand and leaning on it. Her eyes are lidded, gaze scanning over everyone and their respective screens. She doesn't bat an eye at the deceased's holograms. "Has everyone collected a commendable amount of evidence?"

Mikan twiddles her thumbs and nods, whereas Kaede tightens the grip on her arms and bites her lip. "I-I was with Akamatsu-chan.. a-and Gokuhara-kun, but he went off o-on his own after a while..!"

The gambler hums, seemingly unbothered by the additional information. It was enough to make Gonta's head throb—or maybe it was from the lack of edible sustenance? He couldn't define the difference between such things.

Mondo notices this time; he quirks a brow and gestures toward the bug-lover ( _a debatable claim, concerning the whole Jumpy incident_ ), seemingly nonchalant. That is, until he speaks: "Hey, I think Gokuhara should be excused somethin'."

Celeste tilts her head, hovering a hand over her lips. "Oh? Is there a reason to this idea, Oowada-kun?"

The biker grits his teeth, that same distaste apparent in his eyes—he didn't like Celeste, that's what Gonta knew from a mere _glance_ —before focusing on the entomologist again. He makes a small gesture with his dominant hand. "Well, for starters, the dude vomited not too long ago. That, and he barely ate anything _after_ vomiting!"

Ah. Gonta clenches his fists discreetly.

Kirumi perks up at that, gaze steely as she glares at Gonta.

 _Ah._ His grip tightens, nails nearly digging into his palms at that point.

Gonta should've eaten. Kirumi told him to eat, _she told him to eat and he didn't follow her instructions, they were so easy to listen to—_

"Gonta's fine," he lies through his teeth, managing a small smile. The process is somewhat painful, given the dryness in his mouth and the hollowness of his stomach, but he can get through it. "Don't worry about Gonta."

( _Gonta should've eaten. He's just being an inconvenience._ )

( _He can't be an inconvenience. Not again, please, not again._)

He withholds the urge to hug himself, opting to stick to clenching and relaxing his fist. Mondo's brow furrows, and he opens his mouth to speak again, only to go silent immediately. The biker huffs out a sigh before shrugging, muttering a not-so-reassuring, "if ya say so, dude."

The gambler adjusts her collar, pulling at the side and tugging up her tie. She shifts it—once, twice—then puts on a static expression, the faintest upturn of her lips the only humane aspect of her face. "Ah, it would be a waste of time to make sure if _everyone_ had evidence at this rate.."

Red pupils drift along podiums and holograms, dull and unforgiving as they stop on the figure of a maid. Celeste smiles gently at the woman, a knowing look overtaking her once static features, only to return to the previous expression. "Tojo-san, you have the floor."

Kirumi narrows her eyes slightly. She almost looks threatened. Almost, because she clears her throat and adjusts her tie, barely shifting it before realigning it properly. Hard to tell if it was loose in the first place, or maybe that was because of Gonta's slightly blotchy eyesight.

His eyes are just reacting negatively to all the flashing lights, that's all. Nothing to worry about. Definitely has nothing to do with the emptiness of his stomach, the dryness of his throat—no, _definitely_ not.

"We should distribute alibis." The maid looks to Kiyotaka, only to look away when he fails to react. He is completely catatonic and, therefore, out of order. The more-than-occasional flickering along his scalp is concerning nonetheless.

"I know who failed to show themselves when the body was found; Komaeda-kun, Maizono-san and Chihiro. One at a time, please."

Nagito droops over his podium. He manages to look demented, even when Gonta knows he was _trembling_ during their interaction in the kitchen area. "I was tied up, Tojo-san! Gokuhara-kun untied me right before the intercom announcement." There is a lilt to his voice, one that is unfitting for the situation, and he stretches out his arms to showcase the rope burns present on his wrists. They look awful.

The Ultimate Supreme Leader makes a small noise of interest, leaning over his own podium to peer at the burns. "Those look pretty real to me!" He chimes, and the gambler rolls her eyes.

Glad to know Gonta isn't the one who's beginning to find his intolerable. It's only a matter of time before he acts on those thoughts—he's too exhausted to act right now, but the thoughts only get stronger with time.

Suppressing them does nothing. He's too emotional to suppress emotions.

Chihiro, who had the misfortune of being placed beside the madman, shies away from him. They then pick at their sleeves, gnawing their bottom lip. "Ah.. I was sleeping in when I heard the announcement, and then I got scared.."

Kokichi stares at them before leaning away and grinning, nodding to himself. Celeste narrows her eyes in response, seemingly coming to her conclusion before the former. Not surprising when she was already accessing everyone with a scrutinizing gaze beforehand.

Sayaka shifts in place before humming—as if she'd taken the time to recall where she'd been. She hesitates for a moment, and only a moment, before speaking. "Ah, I _was_ absent at the discovery. However, I joined up with Korekiyo and Kiyotaka shortly after entering the lobby!"

Korekiyo nods, whereas Kiyotaka remains silent. The little liar stares at the latter far longer than he should've before smiling and looking elsewhere, arms weaving behind his head. Celeste only hums and glances over at the ticking clock hovering above Monokuma's throne.

Kokichi smiles at Gonta, and the entomologist feels sickness clamber through his esophagus before falling right back down. It stings.

Try as he might, it's impossible to ignore Kokichi. Believe him, he's definitely trying, but he always encounters the male regardless of the circumstances. A shame, truly, because he doesn't want to look at him.

The unfamiliar feeling of gradually growing distaste—like the emotion that dwells in Mondo's eyes whenever Celeste makes herself known—swells up and Gonta is forced to push it down. He can't be an inconvenience, not when Kirumi was drawing out alibis from people.

This was important. He can't mess this up, or else everyone will hate him. People can't hate him, he shouldn't be hated, he's a good person. Good people aren't hated, they're never hated; they're loved and _that's_ why Gonta wants to be a good person.

( _To some extent, that is false. Gonta doesn't know why he wants that love._ )

Celeste breathes out a sigh. "None of them are lying, it would seem." She raises a hand when someone—Gundham, of all people—attempts to question her methods of coming to such a conclusion. "Must I jog your memory? I'm a gambler, I've dealt with more than just the occasional liar in a game of BS."

Gundham looks like he wants to question what _BS_ is, but chooses to remain silent. The time limit weighs heavy on everyone's shoulders and they don't need to increase that weight by spouting questions about a card game.

Death appears to thwart one's want for unneeded information. In this situation, that is, because a lot of stupid conversations were permitted by Shuichi's lack of 'power' over the others. Meanwhile, the people here already had more sense than the Ultimate Detective, believe it or not.

They just weren't pushovers, Gonta thinks sluggishly. His eyes feel slightly heavier than usual.

Mikan wrings her hands together, eyes tracing the other participant's forms. She mutters something under her breath, inhales deeply and straightens up—she looks slightly taller than before, a telltale sign that she was slouching more often than not.

"S-should we move on to a-accusations..?" The nurse twists a strand of hair around a finger, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. "Uh.. I mean—does anyone h-have any accusations?"

A slam echoes throughout the locale, signalling that someone was harming one of Monokuma's podiums—the semi-weak shout of protest from said bear only further cements this claim.

"I bet it was _you_ , ya slippery little nurse!" Miu spits from how fast she shouts the words, slurring them slightly. Pekoyama leans away from her, whereas Kaito makes a low noise of discomfort.

One is indifferent when it comes to Miu's 'erratic' behavior. Pekoyama looks like someone who doesn't care too much about the personality of someone she doesn't know. Kaito, on the other hand, _isn't_ and makes a little scene out of being uncomfortable.

Wisely, nobody pays him any mind. There are things far more important than this outburst right now, one of which including finding out the true blackened of this case.

The entomologist, out of the corner of his eye, watches Rantaro drop his head into his hands with a loud groan. Several people look over, either concerned or bearing the same energy.

Due to his mind gradually reducing itself to a puddle of mush, Gonta says nothing and does his best to focus on the budding debate. Anything that'll keep him alive a little longer, just to spite the thoughts urging him to return to the void. That, and he's made _two_ new friends; Gundham and Kaede.

Gonta knew Kaede, if only for a short period of time. She didn't deserve to be here, quite honestly. Even Rantaro, the person she allegedly murdered according to Monokuma and the rest of the previous student body, seemed to understand that.

On the other hand, Gundham was a little more than an enigma. If this killing game hadn't started up, they wouldn't have met. Some deeper, far more logical part of Gonta wishes they never got the chance to meet. Another is glad that they met, but that's just the naive, innocent voice in the back of his head.

Unfocused red pupils harden and shift downwards, focusing on limp arms. Gonta still needs to get rid of it; 'it' being that little voice that reminds him of how he was before. It's not needed, not when he had his _own_ emotions now.

Only a matter of time, he supposes. He can afford a little more patience when it comes to development, even if it means he'll have to endure a little more encounters with the current—the _first_ one—bane of his existence.

The _second_ bane of his existence happens to be Monokuma. Gonta can't be bothered to say the first's name when he's already _so_ close to doubling over and coughing out his organs. Not the nicest thing to visualize nor think of, in all honesty, but there's nothing else to focus on at the moment.

Aside from the fact that Mikan was being accused of murder, nothing really caught his attention. Nothing good is happening and, for that reason, Gonta sits in a cesspool. They all do, really. He clenches his fists a couple of times, attempting to sate his swerving and collapsing mind for a moment.

The entomologist leans on his podium and pointedly ignores the aching in his stomach. His mind is not sated, not with all the nonsense clambering around, bouncing off every available surface.

( _.. Emotionally-driven thoughts have a lot of cons._)

Mikan reacts quickly—she lifts her arms and takes on a defensive, frail posture, shaking like a leaf. Obviously not taking the accusation well, it would seem. "W-what?! W-w-what would I get o-out of doing that?!" She sounds _so_ close to screaming.

Unlike others, who've been stunned into silence or couldn't care less for Miu's baseless accusation, Sakura makes her disbelief known—a gentle huff escapes her and the nurse calms down a little, whereas Miu looks a little more enraged than before.

"I don't believe it," the fighter begins, tilting her head upwards and frowning. "You'll have to smother me with evidence before I believe such an otherworldly claim." And her big words and overall presence makes Gonta nod, only to stop when Kiyotaka shifts—he _moves_ —beside him.

The moral compass moves, slowly, cautiously, and rubs his eyes. The flickering dies down after a moment of eye-rubbing, coming to a complete stop as he drops his arms to his side. He looks exhausted all over again and the petrified look that once overtook on his features is _nothing_ compared to the long, drawn-out sigh that escapes his lips. Miu glares at him, but he doesn't bother to return the favor.

Kiyotaka only glared back at Tenko. She's dead now, though, so there's no point to it without that.. _rivalry_ of sorts brewing, right? That must've been the case, judging by how demolished he'd been in front of her body. Or maybe he cares a little too much.

Both. It's definitely both, an uneven mixture of the two that makes it more than just a little difficult to decide the stronger emotion.

Gonta shouldn't busy his thoughts with ones centered around someone who's death is foreseeable. But maybe, just maybe, Kiyotaka won't die and he'll live. He doubts the thought, but the sentiment's there. Doesn't count, but it's there nonetheless.

Mikan's gaze goes from one person to another, constantly fleeting and wavering all the while. She's innocent, definitely, because he's pretty sure she contributed to discovering the body—unless he was being an idiot again, that is. It wasn't his place to decide whether or not someone's accusations were correct, not before the debate kicked off.

They needed to traction of someone being incorrect or correct, after all. Without that, they'd be sitting in silence, listening to claims whilst doused in a thick cloud of paranoia. Not to say that'd be any less entertaining to Monokuma..

The nurse tangles her fingers in her hair, narrowly avoiding scratching the mask seated on the side of her head. She takes a small step away from her podium, causing her hologram to sizzle a little. Miu's glare turns on her and, in an instant, she flinches and begins to cower.

"N-no! Y-y-you've gotta believe me, I'm n-not the blackened! I-I don't wanna h-hurt anyone, p-promise!" The stuttering worsens from how fast she's speaking, obviously frantic with the threat of being executed. And, like most times, Gonta can't blame her.

Nobody wants to return to that void. Well, nobody aside from Mukuro. She was willing to get it over with quickly, not wanting to spend another moment reliving the events that got her killed. Her experience must've been significantly worsen than his—perhaps she was manipulated, too, if only to a more horrendous degree.

Perhaps. Gonta would never know for sure—after all, she couldn't utter a thing about it through that hologram. Not when she, much like Tenko, was dead. Strange how the order of that worked. Tenko was the only one who mourned for Mukuro and now she's dead.

Crazy times, he guesses.

Kirumi glances over at Gonta and shakes her head. He's unsure why she does it, but it probably has something to do with one of two things: his lack of food intake or the trial. He decides it's the latter and, without any complaints, accepts that Mikan isn't the murderer.

After all, Kirumi _knows_ who did it. If it wasn't Mikan, then that's one less person to blindly accuse when the debate kicks into full gear. Gonta's stomach rumbles and he is left wondering if he'll make it through the entire trial without begging for an early intermission.

He doesn't have much of a choice in that department, to be honest..

* * *

_ **NONSTOP DEBATE!** _

_**= > Monokuma File #2** _

_**= > Black Strip Of ** _ **_Fabric_ **

**_= > Blood Trail_ **

* * *

Miu snarls, far too like Leon during the first trial. She leans over her podium and, much like before, people divert their eyes in an attempt to ignore her exposed cleavage. Gonta can only sigh, because she hasn't changed in the slightest, even after reigning in her emotions. "I know what I'm sayin'! Mikan's definitely the blackened, and I can prove it!"

When Kiyotaka raises a brow, she scowls and waves a fist at him. "She wasn't **even present during the body discovery at first** , you numbskulls! How the hell didja manage to forget about that, huh?" The inventor turns to Celeste, who looks like she's disassociating.

( _'Is.. she zoning out?'_ )

( _'Nobody wants to listen to the ramblings of an ignorant mortal.'_ )

Rantaro interjects before Celeste can dramatically worsen the situation, raising a hand and gesturing toward the well-endowed woman. He quirks a brow before sighing, shaking his head in what appears to be disappointment. "How else would four people see the body, huh? Didn't the jingle go off when you and Taka entered—that's what the file says."

Celeste narrows her eyes and chooses to ignore Rantaro's interjection; however, she doesn't ignore his points, and props her chin on her intertwined hands as she smiles. "Adding on to that point, murderers don't count in body discoveries. Ishimaru-kun can confirm this." Said male adverts his gaze, but nods all the same.

( _'This is really a waste of time..'_ )

Miu's eye twitches and, in a bout of rage, she pushes herself closer to her hologram. The display fizzles, beginning to flash red due to how she was _this_ close to phasing through it. Pekoyama reaches over to grab her, hesitates at the last second then pulls away completely. "You've gotta be shittin' me, you gamblin' liar! She wasn't there, **she couldn't have been there!** "

( _'She.. wasn't?'_ )

( _'I-I was there first, I s-swear!'_ )

_**"NO, THAT'S WRONG!"** _

_**= > Monokuma File #2** _

_**BREAK!** _

* * *

"Wrong." Gonta sighs and swipes left. His hologram displays the piece of evidence he had in mind immediately, the image fizzling and crackling before settling. It's a hefty dose of strain on his eyes, that's for sure. "Four people saw the body. Mikan was there when Gonta, Oowada-kun and Shinguji-kun got there."

Miu goes stiff, leaning back and letting the redness of her hologram fade to a soft blue. Kaito sighs from beside her, pressing a hand against his cheek whilst Celeste stares off into the distance again. She looks generally uninterested in all of this, and it's rather telling that she is _definitely_ a possible culprit. Not that he'd base all of his evidence off of that. It could be anyone, really.

He was just thinking poorly. His stomach was still upset with him, after all, and it's difficult to focus on things when you're _starving_.

Mikan lets out a shuddering breath, bowing her head a little in thanks. She mutters something under her breath, and Gonta supposes it's a word of thanks by the way Kirumi begins to pat her back. Reminds him of a caring mother, and then his mind blanks out at the reminder that he doesn't know what a mother _actually_ is.

Mahiru clears her throat, shooting a pointed look toward Miu. Said girl immediately shies away from her gaze, a complete turnabout from how she'd been acting prior. Gonta would never understand Miu and he was slowly coming to terms with that.

The photographer points at the pink-schemed girl. “Mikan is an innocent person, I know that much. What I don’t know, on the other hand, is why you accused her so quickly." She lowers her head slightly, bangs encasing the upper half of her face in the shade. "Did you not read the report, or did _you_ play a part in this _tragic_ event, Iruma-san?"

Kiyotaka shakes his head. "She was _also_ on the report, if I may step in to defend her," he announces with a raised hand. Mahiru regards him with a blank, yet scrutinizing gaze before looking elsewhere.

"Another _other_ noteworthy convictions?" Nekomaru asks, raising a brow and leaning on his podium. Unlike the others, aside from Gonta's and Sakura's, his looks armored enough to handle his weight. All the others would, without a doubt in mind, crumble beneath his weight. "Ones that'd benefit us and steer us in the right direction, that is."

For a long moment, it remains quiet. Nobody says anything, and the coach lets out a small sigh. However, for someone of his structure, it sounds like he's heaving out a gallon of air just to make it known that he's not exactly feeling positive about the situation.

Gonta glances over at Kirumi, who's taken on a concentrated gaze. He wonders what she's thinking of, right before his stomach gurgles—the sound is drowned out by the music, which slowly begins to fade when the gentlewoman sweeps a hand along her podium. Dust falls to the side with the swipe and she dusts off her hands.

"I know who the blackened is," she declares, and everything goes downhill from there.

Celeste perks up immediately, whereas Miu and Mahiru exchange looks and Gonta thinks that Kiyotaka is _annoyed_ with how long she took to admit that. Sakura addresses the maid with a dumbfounded expression, one that's on par with Leon's agape jaw and Sayaka's shrunken pupils. A clamor starts up and Kirumi has to clear her throat several times to cull it.

"However, I've remained silent because I have no evidence to support my claim." And, just like that, all of the surprise fades into something akin to deeply rooted disdain. Leon huffs, Sayaka's pupils dilate and Celeste's eyes narrow in on the organized woman. "I am simply waiting for evidence to be provided in order to make my claim believable."

Gonta believes her without a moment of hesitance, and _yet_ —

"That sounds like a false accusation—you should've been searching for evidence, anyways."

Eyes turn to the owner of the voice—surprise, surprise, it's Celeste. For the second time, apparently, and she tilts her head on an angle, one that makes her look as threatening as Angie. Said artist clasps her hands together and prays silently, whispering something about the gift of patience or something along those lines.

Gonta wishes he could do the same, but he doesn't want to get tangled up in Angie's schemes. Not when she was, apparently, using her spiritual devices to absolutely demolish the mental state of her victims.

( _What an absolute shit show.._ )

Celeste's smile becomes more dangerous—fiery, dare say—and she drops her hands. “Strange, really, how you’ve come to that conclusion. You’ve got no evidence, no nothing, and you _know_ who the blackened is?"

Kirumi stays silent. She lowers her head and the gambler makes a small noise of false astonishment, hovering a hand over her painted lips. The black really does suit her, especially with her entire Gothic getup. Fits the somewhat cruel and trickster personality she's harboring, too. Perhaps all gamblers knew how to act like..

Gonta stops himself before he can finish the thought. He looks off to the side, accidentally catching Rantaro's downcast gaze—the male's head turns away from him instantly, and the entomologist's head throbs uncomfortably and he staggers slightly. Kiyotaka steadies him immediately, but doesn't look worried.

The moral compass looks _concerned_ , not worried. Gonta knows the difference, possibly, and another round of blotches clambers through his eyes and forces his head to throb again. It's uncomfortable, it's _so_ uncomfortable—why didn't he get something to eat?

The entomologist clutches his podium at the thought, but nobody looks over at him—they're focused on Kirumi and Celeste, who're having a showdown of sorts. Yeah, that's important. Way more important than him right now.

( _Gonta's head hurts.._ )

Celeste continues to push the topic, eyes lidded. Almost as if she's having _fun_ messing with Kirumi, who was pointedly avoiding her gaze. Rantaro shifts, but does not look—he doesn't need to look to listen and Gonta wishes he could say the same. He doesn't want to pay attention to this, he can't pay attention to this and it's _so uncomfortable to think about things when his stomach is so hollow._

"You've made yourself quite suspicious, Kirumi." Gonta clutches his stomach and leans on his podium, allowing Kiyotaka to gently rub his back, muttering something under his breath about _something._ It's harder to focus than usual and that's a _problem._ "You're telling me that you wandered around, collected no evidence whatsoever and were able to find out who the culprit was?"

Gonta feels like hurling. However, Monokuma would _gladly_ execute him on the spot if he makes another mess—maybe he'll get mocked again for it, which felt a little worse than getting killed. He knows why. Death would be the outcome of this, anyways. What was he trying to achieve by starving himself, anyways?

Maybe he was just feeling sick; or a bad case of deja vu. The candy cigarettes could come up anytime now, and he wouldn't be able to stop them. He already choked on one of them—why not choke on the liquefied, acid-ridden version of the ones that went down, too?

"Gokuhara-kun, you _really_ should've eaten." Kiyotaka reprimands quietly. It's strange, hearing him be quiet. Gonta wonders if it's because he's _trying_ to be considerate of their closeness. No, surely not, because Celeste and Kirumi are already sparking up their own debate.

Taka just doesn't want to interrupt them. The entomologist can respect that, even as his thoughts are gradually being reduced to mush as he begins to lose feeling in his fingers—more uncomfortable than before, especially when the bones and muscles begin to stiffen and the blotches increase in size and populate his vision more than before.

Kirumi looks like she's glaring at the other woman, all while another hand drops onto Gonta's head. He barely manages to flinch, but he knows it's Rantaro. The male holds his hair back, just in case he's gonna vomit again, and he appreciates the consideration on the adventurer's part. Nothing's coming up, though, but Gonta knows that he's not gonna stay awake much longer.

"There are _many_ ways to come to a conclusion. I don't need evidence when I've witnessed strange behaviors and the like." Kirumi rebuts, and Celeste's brow twitches. It's the only flaw in her poker face, but Gonta can't focus on that. No, he really can't, even when he tries his best to do so.

His legs are shaky and his feet are much colder than usual. Almost like there's no blood rushing down there, or anywhere else where the blood _should_ be. That'd explain the stiffness of his bones and the internal snowstorm that seized his body. His stomach aches more and more and Gonta reckons that he's beginning to be torn in two.

It feels like something's drilling a hole through his torso and he seizes up at the memory—suddenly, he's dying and being burnt and being _stabbed and stung,_ and he goes completely slack. The blotches overcome his vision and, with his glasses sliding down the ridge of his nose a little, he blacks out.

For once, Gonta passes out when he's _not supposed to._ He can only imagine the mess he's left in his wake, all because he didn't follow the simple orders of getting some rest and eating something. The reminder that, once upon a time, he was being brutally _murdered_ for the entertainment of others was just the icing on the cake.

Maybe he should listen to others a little more often. That sounds like it'd be helpful, most definitely. Not like he could do that right now, though. His thoughts flatline as soon as his eyes close.

If only it was that simple. If only, then he wouldn't be in this position. 

Rantaro remains still for a moment, only to drop Gonta's hair upon realizing that the male is, in fact, unconscious. Kiyotaka attempts to lift the bug-lover off his podium, only to recoil at how heavy he actually is; far heavier than Mondo, that's for sure, and it makes him realize that he _literally cannot pick Gonta up, no matter what he does._

Oh, this is a problem.

Rantaro clears his throat before speaking up: "Uh, guys? We have a problem."

His words don't get the reaction he was looking for, but it's a reaction nonetheless. "We're having a _debate_ ," Celeste starts, turning to the male with a turned up nose. "I'd advise you to remain in your la—"

Her voice trails off. Everyone knows why.

Someone gasps and Mondo takes this moment to grunt out, " _what did I say._ " Chaos gradually begins to seep into the atmosphere, and nobody does anything to stop it. Not when one of their 'classmates' looked like he just keeled over and _died._

( _Wouldn't be too far from the truth. Missing some crucial parts, though._)

The gambler stare's at Gonta's unconscious form, unresponsive and completely showing how bad he was with taking proper care of himself. Slowly, she places a hand on her chest and lets out a soft, "oh."

For once, Celeste chooses to display _genuine_ surprise.

Monokuma jumps up from its perch, surveying the situation briefly. It then groans, flopping right back down and slamming its paw on a blue button situated some ways from the throne. Almost as if it's done this before, and found it to be rather boring right about now.

Then again, there was no telling how many people have been thrown into these killing games. A lot, presumably, because Monokuma would've done this a long time ago if it didn't have a lineup at the ready. A pity, really, how it's come to this.

They don't have a choice anymore.

The spiraling words; ' **CLASS TRIAL: IN SESSION** '; shift and, gradually, come to a halt. Then, within an instant, the words begin to change, as if someone's pressed delete and typed in a new set of code.

' **CLASS TRIAL: INTERMISSION'** flashes several times and, slowly, begins to revolve around the participants. Man, the stupid ursine was really prepared for all of this, or maybe they just hadn't had a long enough trial last time to _have_ an intermission? Perhaps.

Questions could be asked later, or preferably never. Gonta's current state of health was in shambles, which was far more important than the technology their headmaster used.

The elevator dings and Monokuma sinks further into its throne, huffing when Sakura and Nekomaru get to work on hauling Gonta out of the trial room. Mikan hesitates, but scurries after them, shivering as the elevator goes up, up, up and disappears.

The ursine scoffs, crossing one nubby leg over the other. Once again, it resorts to reclining, uncaring and nonchalant about the need to dismiss a student for _passing out,_ of all things. "Jeez, and I thought you'd be able to take care of yourselves after dying the _first_ time!" It takes a long, loud and annoying sip of its beverage.

_Ouch._

Kirumi looks at her feet, fists clenching at her sides. God, this was gonna be a lot messier, wasn't it? Gonta was _definitely_ someone who needed to be here for this trial, even if it meant that he wouldn't like the outcome of it. Or maybe he would, given the circumstances, because Kirumi is far too devoted to revealing the blackened.

The maid _isn't_ wrong when it comes to that. She knows that, and, even then, she finds herself getting swayed by Celeste's constant skepticism. What a pain in the ass, this gambling specialist was.. but a maid doesn't voice those annoyances. A maid makes due and gets through everything, whether she likes it or not.

That's what Kirumi would do. Even if Gonta—the poor, _traumatized_ sweetheart who just needs to learn a thing or two about self-care—wasn't here, she'd finish this trial. Just for him, because he'd want to know that _almost_ everyone got out of this safely.

( _It's not that simple, though, and Kirumi knows this._ )

When Kirumi raises her gaze, she makes eye contact with a woman who shouldn't have died. A woman she never got to know, but she respects her nonetheless.

Kirumi hopes that Kaede gets out of here. She deserves it, really.

Kaede nods to her, albeit she appears to be slightly more distraught than before—not that it was surprising right about now, for Kaede cares a little too much and it shows. She was still reeling the recent death of Tenko, but Gonta _fainting_ was just another slap to the face.

Kirumi returns the nod, even if the pianist begins to tamper with the hem of her tailcoat anxiously whilst waiting for the intermission to end. The former resists the urge to do the same, keeping her hands at her sides and clenching them tighter. She can only pray that her gloves won't rip in the process.

Everything is just growing worse and worse, it would seem. Anyone could make that assumption. No matter.

Kirumi would get through this. For Gonta's sake and everyone else's, of course. Never for her own.

Maids don't operate like that.

The maid moves her head to the side, only to catch the gaze of a sly gambler. She's already recovered from her surprise, no longer letting her mask slip after processing that Gonta wasn't dead; he was just unresponsive.

All because he didn't do the things a human was supposed to do. A shame, really, that he'd been reduced to such a sorry state after obtaining his own emotions.

Celeste smiles at Kirumi, and it is unnerving. She goes back to leaning on her hands, which're propped up on her 'regal' podium. Her hologram fades ever so slightly, as if it's been worn from use or had overheated.

"We'll discuss this further when the intermission ends, alright?" There is some sort of lilt to her voice and that, too, is unnerving. Reasonably so.

Kirumi hesitates. ".. Of course." Her voice remains steady, even when she's close to spitting out the blackened's name and forcing others to believe that it's _them_. But she keeps herself proper, knowing that manipulating people to do things wasn't going to work in her favor.

 _She_ doesn't operate like that.

"Not like you had much of a choice," Kokichi quips from his stand, and Kirumi wishes that he'd just _shut up for one second_. Nagito shrugs beside him, all while Chihiro bites back tears and musters up a shaky smile toward Kirumi. Glad to know that someone still has some faith in her, even if they happen to have faith in.. well, just about everyone here.

Chihiro's just a blessing to have around, is her point. They smile for a little longer before looking down at their intertwined hands.

A silence encases the locale, aside from the funky music that's still blasting through the speakers. Unfitting for the situation, but Monokuma definitely doesn't care about that. Not when it's directing a killing game and laxly waiting for people to come back so he can _continue it._

Kirumi closes her eyes for the time being.

( _Now, to wait for the intermission to end.._ )

( _.. This trial's gonna to be a pain, too. Just gotta tough it out._ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter Two: The Gift Of The Chrysanthemums - CLASS TRIAL PART ONE**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 22**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to @carlitagt for the concept (gonta losing consciousness)! :D


	14. The Gift of The Chrysanthemums (Class Trial II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing is okay.

**Truth Bullet - The Truth**

**There may be nothing to prove it, but I know who the blackened is. I just have to wait..**

**\- - -**

_**CLASS TRIAL, ALL RISE!** _

_**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 22** _

* * *

The intermission draws to a close when the elevator dings again, signalling the return of _conscious_ peers. Two of them, anyways, for Mikan is no longer among them—Mahiru is the first to notice, seeing as she's the closest to the nurse. Apparently, anyways, as Ibuki is long gone and incapable of displaying any tangible emotion.

When the photographer opens her mouth to speak, Sakura lifts a hand in dismissal. "Mikan decided to stay back to take care of Gonta," she explains with a brand of professionalism that Kirumi wishes she could _graze_ , "she said people as self-destructive as him can't afford to go unsupervised."

( _Truly, Kirumi wished he'd listen and eat something. Alas, she did a bad job of trusting him._)

( _It wouldn't happen again._ )

Kirumi watches Kokichi bite at his thumb. She's unsure if it's all just another act or if he's actually concerned about Gonta's mental and physical state—oh, who was she kidding, the kid _definitely_ doesn't care about Gonta's well-being. Not after all the horrible stunts he'd pulled to antagonize the latter.

It's a real shame, the maid must admit.

However, she can't let her personal beliefs get in the way of exposing the blackened. She stares at her reflection in the hologram, gaze vacant and scrutinizing. The visual representation of herself judges her far more than Celeste ever would, and it would remain that way for as long as the trial carries on.

Kirumi won't have to look at herself for much longer. Having that knowledge on her person is only a little comforting—it doesn't count as evidence and, therefore, feels invalidated tenfold. She holds onto the thought regardless.

Monokuma bashes its paw against the blue button as soon as the two bodybuilders are back to their respective posts. The words flash—once, twice—then shift back to their original text. Not once do the letters stop swirling, constantly drifting around the participants in this cruel, inhumane game.

Death was far more welcoming than this. She wonders if it still is, after all this time of being alive, even if it's only been a couple of days.

The funky music drifts back into place and Kirumi is forced to take her thoughts elsewhere. Celeste smiles slyly once again and, even when Kirumi _knows_ it isn't the gambler, she is temporarily put under the belief that that's the face of a murderer.

( _In a way, she is correct, but those are different circumstances._ )

Kaede clears her throat, clearly looking to diffuse some of the tension that'd gathered over time. Her eyes flick over to Tenko's hologram and she falters, if only for a moment, before carrying on. She swipes her hand upwards, hologram crackling and fizzling under her palm. Normal.

Kirumi doesn't like that this—all of this—is normal to her. She's accepted it already, in such little time. It says far too much about her as a maid, as a _human being._

"Uh, I'll start us off," the pianist begins. Her voice is soothing enough to draw the maid from her thoughts, and she smiles sorrowfully at the thought of thinking of such a woman. She'd only known her for such a small droplet of time, yet here she was, enjoying the sound of her _voice_.

A part of her—an independent piece that's driven by her fractured emotions—wonders if she could call Kaede a sister. She's definitely fit for the role, being supportive when she, too, was so close to falling apart.

Kirumi is a wreck. Kaede doesn't need another wreck, not when she's dealing with Gonta and Gundham at the same time. Gundham hates Jabberwock Island with a passion, that much is known, and Gonta's mental state has lowered to the point where he's starved himself.

Kaede doesn't need another wreck, Kirumi decides. Celeste stares right through her, expressionless yet telling. She knows, but she says nothing.

Nothing needs to be said. Not in this situation or the next.

Wary eyes and music pins are glossed over by the evidence emerging on the hologram. It fizzles again, protesting one last time before calming down. For now, at least. "While Mikan was looking over the body—" she halts to shudder, visibly swallowing an emotion or two, "—I found a piece of fabric attached to a window. The.. window itself wasn't intact."

Nagito tilts his head, seemingly interested in what the pianist has to say. It's truly unnerving, really, how he goes from kicking and scratching and _howling_ at Nekomaru ( _that's how he was when he was being restrained, she knows, as that's what she witnessed_ ) to _this_. He then drapes himself over his podium again, eyes fluttering as a grin creeps onto his face.

Unnerving. It's all too unnerving.

Nagito didn't kill Tenko. Kirumi knows that, but it's _unnerving._ Two people have ruined her flow and she finds herself wanting to pin the blame on someone else, someone who'll get them all killed because of her spiraling.

The maid calms herself before it gets worst. They'll survive, she knows it. Just need to litter the place with evidence and she'll be good to go.

"Oh! That lines up with what happened to me while I was tied up!" The lucky student glares at Nekomaru for emphasis, if only for a moment. Then he's straightening up, acting as if he hadn't spoken with his eyes. "Someone ran through and got glass and blood everywhere!"

There is a long pause, the silence emphasized by the tedious ticking of Monokuma's clock. Or maybe it was the ursine tapping away at its throne, slouching further and further into the cushion to the point where the material began to engulf their backside. It was one of the two.

Chihiro lifts a shaky hand, seemingly signalling that they were going to speak. When nobody interjects or the like, they glance over at the madman poised beside them—an unfortunate case, truly. ".. Are you telling the truth, Komaeda-kun?"

"If I was going to lie, I would've warned you beforehand!" He plops a hand on his palm, batting his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Why would I lie when adding on to an Ultimate, hm?"

Kaede blinks. She opens her mouth, closes it and takes a small step back. Her eyes search the male's face, attempting to find any form of blasphemy, but she appears to find none. None in the slightest; he is _completely_ serious, although his semi-exhausted posture and lax expression tells Kirumi a number of things.

Unnerving. That's what Nagito is, that's what Kirumi will remember him as for as long as she lives.

( _A tight-lipped smile makes itself apparent on her features._ )

Sakura hums softly, eyes closing and head angling downwards. "Guess we'll have to reinforce the idea that you're telling the truth."

Nagito smiles. It's a giddy smile, although there is exhaustion and a pinch of _sincerity_ in it. All of it lies under his expression, deep and hidden from others; if you looked deep enough, though, it was as clear as day that he was telling the truth and held no ill intent. Not this time, at least.

Kirumi doesn't look deep enough.

* * *

_ **NONSTOP DEBATE!** _

_**= > Confirm** _

_**= > Deny** _

* * *

Celeste props her chin up again, tilting her head forward to look at the others through her eyelashes. Rather than it being alluring, pretty, or anything or the sort; no, she looks exactly like Angie whenever the latter attempts to reinforce the idea of Atua existing. Both of the girls feel similar, and not in a good way. "He's the Ultimate Lucky Student, isn't he? He'd be able to pull something like this off."

Nagito hums, looking off to the side. "While that much is definitely true.." He shrugs and runs a hand through his raggedy, bleached hair. " **I never moved from my spot on the floor!** Even though I've been nothing more than an inconvenience for the Ultimates, I'm not one to go against orders."

( _'Did he have to phrase it like that..?'_ )

( _'I don't believe him.'_ )

Kaede squeezes her arm, gnawing at her lip with knitted brows. She's conflicted—anyone could deduct that, assuming they had the mental capacity to do such a thing. "Those ropes looked awfully uncomfortable.. but I can't ignore the fact that it _would_ be entirely possible for the Ultimate Lucky Student to accomplish such a feat."

Rantaro nods, albeit begrudgingly. A hand is raised and a finger or two graze the side of his skull. "Yeah, definitely. I don't remember seeing any blood in the kitchen when I checked upon Nagito beforehand.."

Nagito goes rigid. His exhaustion becomes significantly more apparent and everyone notices.

( _'Wait, was the trial really this easy?'_ )

( _'Nyahaha! I knew the madman was fit for murder!'_ )

Kiyotaka narrows his eyes, shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. His fingers claw at his sleeves, if only because of the constant, insistent murmurings that're accusing Nagito of being the culprit. "H-hey, but Komaeda-kun was tied up the entire time, wasn't he? **Then he couldn't have possibly been responsible for the property damage!** "

_**V-CONSENT - "I AGREE WITH THAT!"** _

_**= > Confirm** _

**BREAK!**

* * *

"That is entirely correct, Taka," Kirumi interjects, "I expect nothing less from the Ultimate Moral Compass." She features another tight-lipped smile, eyes crinkling as Kiyotaka stiffens and adverts his gaze, his strict exterior melting away like a gradient. It's almost endearing to watch.

( _Almost. Not quite._ )

Angie leans from side to side, letting out small tidbits of her contained laughter as Nagito heaves out a sigh. The male, although he exhibited behavior that make it seem like he wanted nothing more than ( _the sweet release of_ ) death, didn't _want_ to die. Not another time, that is, as Kirumi was very sure that he was willing to be murdered going off of the horrid portrait hanging from his vacant cabin's door.

"Oho? You sound so sure of yourself, Kirumi!" She does a little swirl, prompting Monokuma to voice its complaints on how often the holograms were fizzling and crackling—unsurprisingly, the spiritual manipulator pays it no mind and repeats the action giddily. "Back off for a while, won't you? You already did a lot of the work last time!"

Kirumi stares at Angie for a _long_ time before looking away. She doesn't need to listen to the madwoman's ramblings—to listen to the ramblings of a madwoman is to await death with open arms.

( _Kirumi ponders if she should do that, if only for a moment._ )

( _No. She has to do this. For Gonta._ )

The maid clears her throat, completely ignoring Angie's gaze. For the moment, at least, because they didn't have time to derail the debate. "Rantaro, he was still tied up when you saw him, correct?" She narrows her eyes when said adventurer nods, slow and hesitant. "That was before the murder actually took place, surely. Look at Komaeda-kun's arm."

Kirumi makes a small gesture toward the male, prompting him to raise his bandaged arm—a bandage curls away from the wrapped bunch, causing Nagito rip it off without a _second_ of hesitance. Dried blood sticks to the tightly woven material, a few chunks seeping down the side of his hand. Regardless, there's no sign that he'd gotten injured or the like.

Then again, Tenko didn't put up much of a fight. She was completely slack, eyes clouded with evident defeat. There was something lying beneath the surface of it all. Now, if only Kirumi could uncover it without too much fanfare..

"That implies that whoever made the mess," Chihiro lifts themselves up on the tips of their toes, "moved the blood over to Komaeda-kun!" They look to the male for affirmation, only to grimace more than just a little bit when they obtain said affirmation. "I was hoping that wasn't the case.."

Sayaka bites at her nails, rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet. "Should.. we look into the blood situation, then?" Blue eyes hesitantly scan the perimeters, waiting for a noise or look of affirmation to come to light.

It takes a moment, but Kirumi sighs and nods her head. If nobody was going to delve deeper into this, then she would have to do it herself. Even if she already knew who the blackened was, that didn't mean it'd be easy to convince them without proper evidence. Not under these circumstances, where people have been lied to far too many times.

Everyone here was, in their own way, broken. Be it forced to murder someone or forced rot away and be mourned. Some would say that both of these options were the same—Kirumi wouldn't deny that one bit, not when it was _true_.

Oh, but how she _hates_ that it's true.

"Whoever escaped through the window was injured," she states. "Not only that, but they left a trail if Gokuhara-kun managed to trace it back to Komaeda-kun." Kirumi taps her foot before perking up, placing a hand on her thigh as she went over the words bubbling in the back of her throat. She then dismissed them, although she didn't move her hand.

No, not now. Just a little more evidence would do her some good, truly.

Mondo furrows his brow in thought. He then snaps his fingers, looking over at Kaede—she definitely had a good portion of the evidence, it would seem, especially since the blackened hadn't made much of an appearance on the other floors. Just the lobby, it would seem. "Didn't you and Mikan check out the window? Y'said there was something attached to it, right?"

The pianist looks perturbed, but only for a minute, because she, too, perks up and begins to swipe through her hologram. Kirumi was only growing increasingly grateful that she was here, because the evidence she had on her person was definitely picking up the slack for the groups that _weren't_ on the first floor.

"Right! There was a black piece of fabric hanging off the broken remains!" The piece of fabric looks rather mundane, really, and the maid can't put her finger on if it would belong to a stocking or a dress or a suit. Perhaps she's just not well-versed in the art of clothing manufacturing and the like. Yes, that'd definitely make sense, even if she had basic knowledge on what did and didn't go in a washing machine.

Sayaka, on the other hand, is different; her eyes widen and she points at the item, beginning to do little stationary bunny hops. "Dress! That's from a dress!" She calls out, and several people look her way.

Celeste hovers a hand over her lips, giggling into them when the idol realizes how loud she was—she immediately apologizes, bowing her head. Kaede blinks slowly, as if she'd been stunned.

Nekomaru bares a wide, proud grin; one that reminds everyone that his Ultimate is, basically, teamwork and unification. "Hey, don't apologize for contributing! That's actually pretty damn helpful, Maizono-san!" His voice is loud, but the music that blares from the speakers keeps it from becoming _uncomfortably_ loud.

Out of everyone, Kiyotaka's the one who looks the most affected by the noise—he shudders, bites his lip and adverts his eyes for the umpteenth time. Kirumi takes note of his behavior, although it'll be of no use to her. Not if this goes the way she needs it to go.

According to plan, is what she means. If everything goes _according to plan_ , then she won't have to worry about what sets Taka off. She snaps her gloves against her wrists, tugging at them absentmindedly. Not like she could do anything else, not when they were kicking up another debate.

( _At least we're getting somewhere.._ )

* * *

_**NONSTOP DEBATE!** _

_**= > Confirm** _

_**= > Deny**_

* * *

Kaede clears her throat, wringing her hands together as the attention gradually drifts away from Sayaka. "Okay, so we know that the blackened was wearing a dress with black fabrics. So, because of that, we should be able to narrow it down to.. a few people." She places her hand on her chin in thought, closing her eyes.

Miu scoffs—rather loudly, at that, because she's making an effort to get her opinion out there. Even when her first claim was proven incorrect by the others, she remains persistent. Somewhat admirable, Kirumi'd give her that much. "How'd you know if it was a dress or a legging, blue bitch?!"

Sayaka goes stiff, stunned and blinking at Miu rapidly. She's processing what she'd been called— _'blue bitch'_. That wasn't bringing back any fond memories, if said memories were actually valid at the moment. Most likely not.

( _'Did.. did she just..?'_ )

( _'Iruma-san! What is your problem today?!_ _'_ )

The Ultimate Inventor wastes no time, glowering under the spotlight she'd snatched from the pianist. Typical of her, really, but it was really messing up the flow of Kirumi's plan. If Miu managed to get a good point in and turn this against Sayaka.. "For all we know, you could be lyin' to us! You weren't there at the body discovery, so yer pretty damn suspicious!"

Mondo drags a hand down the side of his face, whereas Leon looks off to the side. "All of this is sounding _really_ familiar," the former grumbles under his breath, although it's difficult to hear over the blaring music. " **That's not legging fabric or whatever, right?** "

( _'Sayaka wouldn't lie to us!'_ )

( _'Mortals are fickle and naive; given the chance, she would.'_ )

The idol remains silent, gnawing at the inside of her cheeks, and Miu guffaws. "I told ya! **She was lyin'** — **that's not dress fabric!** " She barks, and Kirumi narrows her eyes. No, she can't have this trial going under because of someone's nonsensical instigating, she _refuses to have that outcome._

Before she can speak, someone else does it for her. Someone she, quite frankly, didn't expect.

_**"NO, THAT'S WRONG!"** _

**_BREAK!_ **

* * *

"You're starting an argument that doesn't need to happen," Korekiyo scoffs. "If you're going to make such a bold claim—one based off the fear of someone _innocent—_ then I hope you have proper evidence."

Miu shuts up immediately. It's very clear that she didn't think this through, didn't imagine _this_ scenario. And, in all honesty, that's fair. They're the last person you'd think of in a situation like this, and yet..

It goes silent; the music ends abruptly and Kirumi inhales sharply. This was a rare moment, concerning the anthropologist's reclusive nature and how they only butted in when defending themselves; going off of the previous trials that she'd just barely managed to participate in, that is. Then again, anyone can get fed up with Miu's antics. Korekiyo, apparently, is not an exception.

Nobody's an exception, it would seem. Go figures.

The lanky observer glances over at Celeste and Kirumi, eyes lidded and fingers drumming against their podium. Even if that's just them being idle, their posture is, somehow, rather menacing. Kirumi can't tell why.

Korekiyo then gestures at the two, yellow pupils trained on their idle figures, shifting between the two with an unspecified rhythm—unnerving, but not at Nagito's level. Not yet, even with the knowledge of what they'd done before this killing game.

( _That's because it wasn't their fault._ )

"I learned this from someone I'd rather not think about; however, in order to move along with this trial, I must reinforce Maizono-san's interjection." Kirumi glances over at Celeste, who remains unfazed at the idea of getting accused; because it's not her, that's the only reason she's so confident about this.

"That _was_ dress fabric. It has a different texture than legging material, although I'm sure someone with your level of _stupidity_ wouldn't realize that. Or maybe you never learnt textures as a child."

Miu sputters and several people wince at the comment ( _to no surprise, Kokichi breaks into a fit of childish giggles_ ). Regardless, the anthropologist pulls no punches and merely nods toward the gambler and the maid. "Those two are the prime suspects, in that case."

Once again, it goes silent, all before it _blows up_ ; there's clamor from both sides of the spectrum, one that vouches for Kirumi and one that claims that _someone else_ could've done it, that it wasn't strictly limited to those two. Kirumi sighs and raises her hands, waving everyone off and, gradually, calming the crowd. Good. One less thing to deal with.

Oh, but she truly hopes that this goes well. She doesn't want Gonta to leave this world unknowingly, sick and unable to change his fate. Just thinking about it makes her upset, her stomach churning in time with the cogs in her brain.

Doesn't stop her from thinking about it, unfortunately. However, it does make her want to get this over with as quickly as possible, much like Korekiyo. There's no use in prolonging this when it's already down between the two main suspects, after all.

Anything to keep Gonta alive, anything to keep him _well._ He deserves the world and then some, she knows this, but the means of acquiring such a thing has never been so horrible. She twiddles her thumbs before smiling another tight-lipped smile, eyes crinkling as she shuts them tightly—knowingly.

"It must be Celeste, then!" Kaede points out, causing said gambler to tilt her head and quirk a brow; a silent message to egg the pianist on, one that works all too wonderfully. "Tojo-san said that she knew who the blackened was during the investigation period, which was why she didn't have any evidence; she was a _witness_!"

Angie whoops, clapping her hands together joyously whilst Sakura looks awfully perturbed. Rightfully so, with how that piece of evidence had been dueled out; it was nice to see that someone still wished to defend her in a time like this. Alas, the clock was ticking and Kirumi has no intentions of leaving this trial alive.

No, she never planned on leaving alive. That's the point of it, isn't it?

Gingerly, with the gentleness of a mother, she hovers a hand over her heart and smiles at Kaede. Her eyes crinkle and her expression softens, but there's a hardness behind her eyes. An icy, frigid gaze that freezes the pianist to the spot within a mere glance. And, with only two words, everyone's hopes are reduced to mush and then some.

"You're wrong." Kirumi murmurs softly. "You're _wrong_ , Kaede. I was a witness; alas, I was also the executioner."

Silence envelops the locale. The music comes to a close, leaving only bated breath and watery eyes and agape maws. It is quiet for once and, with a smile on her face, Kirumi realizes how much she hates the silence. It helps with nothing, her thoughts already clawing and screaming at her for not getting away with this while she had the chance.

But she didn't want to get away with this. That was the problem— _she did this and was willing to pay the consequences._

( _Monokuma hates it when people are honest._ )

Kokichi—an annoying child, yes, but a child nonetheless—lets out something vaguely akin to a squeak. He looks over at Chihiro, who's trembling and teary-eyed, before returning his gaze to Kirumi. A silent plead, it would seem, one that begs her to be lying, to be jesting at the most inappropriate time possible.

"You're.. you're not serious.. right..?" His voice is tiny, broken—maybe it's a lie, maybe not. You'd never be able to tell.

The maid says nothing, and it is enough to make him teary-eyed, too. Even if she didn't hold a fondness for the purple-haired gremlin, her heart still aches when he begins to shake and look around at everyone else, wagering their expressions and whatnot.

He doesn't want to be the only one who cries. She understands that feeling all too much.

Rather than revel in the silence—the uncomfortable lack of noise that makes her want to double over and retch out her emotions, saying things that a maid shouldn't say—she raises her hand and turns to Monokuma, who watches the dead debate warily. It is not pleased, not by any means, but the debate had drawn on long enough. In Kirumi's opinion, of course, but a maid's opinion didn't matter.

It matters even less when said maid is about to be executed.

"Monokuma, please initiate the voting sequence," she says kindly. The ursine wastes no time and, within seconds, everyone's holograms are displaying mutilated pixel characters; some are melting, one is reduced to a pile of salt and then some, others are brandishing bloody skulls and teary eyes. It's just as unnerving as it was before.

Unnerving. Must be the word of the day, since she was using it so often. Perhaps.

Kaede swallows down something—spit, guilt, maybe, for she's already tapped on Kirumi's broken pixel body—before shuddering. It echoes through her voice and Kirumi wishes that she didn't have to hear it, that she didn't have to go through any of this. "You.. you killed Tenko..?"

Kirumi lowers her head instead of answering. Someone sniffles, maybe Kokichi or Kaede—or both, as she refuses to lift her head. She can't.

( _This was their agreement. Tenko agreed to this._ )

( _It really did hurt to see her so defeated._ )

Monokuma spins in place, although it's rather awkward without music blasting through the speakers. So, in order to fit the mood, melodramatic piano keys echo throughout the trial room, reverberating off the walls. It reminds her of a music box. Soft, serene..

Sad. So, so very sad.

Once again, after a few minutes of silence and distraught, betrayed looks, the screen displays a lottery machine. This time, it begins with a burning stake with the vague silhouette of a woman strapped to the middle of it. Celeste clenches her fists at the sight, but her expression fails to betray her true feelings; she is bubbling with rage, but she hides it behind a solemn expression.

Kirumi reminds herself that the gambler doesn't care for her death. No, she doesn't care, even when she sends the maid a sympathetic look before focusing on the machine again. It's false, she tells herself, it's all false.

Her heart aches regardless.

* * *

**GONTA GOKUHARA - 0**

**KIYOTAKA ISHIMARU - 1**

**MONDO OOWADA - 0**

**TANAKA GUNDHAM - 0**

**MIU IRUMA - 0**

**KOKICHI OUMA - 1**

**CHIHIRO FUJISAKI - 0**

**NEKOMARU NIDAI - 0**

**RANTARO AMAMI - 0**

~~**IBUKI MIODA** **\- 0**~~

**CELESTIA LUDENBERG - 0**

**KIRUMI TOJO - 19 [ WINNER ]**

**NAGITO KOMAEDA - 0**

**KAITO MOMOTA - 0**

**ANGIE YONAGA - 0**

**MAHIRU KOIZUMI - 0**

**MIKAN TSUMIKI - 0**

~~**MUKURO IKUSABA - 0** ~~

**PEKO PEKOYAMA - 0**

**SAKURA OGAMI - 0**

~~**TENKO CHABASHIRA - 0** ~~

**SAYAKA MAIZONO - 0**

**LEON KUWATA - 0**

**KAEDE AKAMATSU - 1**

**KOREKIYO SHINGUJI - 0**

**_CLASS TRIAL, ALL RISE!_ **

* * *

"Yet another wonderful job, my darling cubs!" Monokuma spins a couple more times, movements akin to Angie's as it plops back onto its bum. It kicks its legs giddily, giggling to itself under its nubby paws. The votes are depressing, seeing how many people just voted for themselves. "Still smart cookies, even though both of your wins have been handed to you on a silver platter.. speaking of which, I'd love to eat a salmon sometime soon."

Kokichi trembles vigorously, and it doesn't take a genius to know that he's crying. Unlike all the times he'd been faking such a thing, however, snot runs down his nose and his entire body _racks_ with a sob. Kaede adverts her eyes and bites her lip, whereas Kiyotaka's clenching his fists and digging his nails into his respective palms.

( _Emotional._ _So, so emotional over a_ _maid._ )

Chihiro sniffles loudly, bottom lip wobbly as they try to keep themselves together. Oh, but Kirumi only sat with them and listened to them talk about Mondo once or twice—she wishes she spent more time with them, with everyone. "T-Tojo-san, I'm sorry..!"

Pekoyama lowers her head, squeezing her shoulders as she pointedly avoids eye-contact. Her body is bowed at a strange angle, but she manages to look completely comfortable and balanced. "Please, forgive me for subjecting you to this fate.."

And Kirumi smiles. Unlike the last few times, it's not tight-lipped. It's a genuine, soft smile; the same smile that she used to comfort Gonta. She'll miss him; such a shame he couldn't be here for the trial, and would have to be informed later on. How cruel.

"I've prepared a _very_ special punishment for **Kirumi Tojo** , the **Ultimate Maid!** " Monokuma announces, rubbing its paws together. Unnerving, so very unnerving, but Kirumi would have to deal with it. There's no taking back what she agreed to do, if only to keep everyone else safe.

Tenko wouldn't want to see another girl die. How unfortunate that Kirumi was a girl, a girl who was about to die.

So, instead of going silently and apologetically, the blackened decides to leave a message; she locks eyes with Kaede and shushes her softly, watching as the musician's eyes fill with unshed tears. 

And, with an aching and heavy heart, Kirumi utters her last words: "Kaede, please—when you see Gonta, tell him _everything_. Tell him how I didn’t lie to him, how I said I _knew_ who the culprit was and couldn’t just say it was me." She gulps and her lip quivers, stumped for a mere moment.

"T-tell him that, although our time together was limited, I.. I always thought of him as a _friend_ , somewhat. Can you tell him that? I.. I want him to know that, even if I'm not there with him."

Kaede opens her mouth to respond, to agree to that, to say that she'd do _anything_ for Kirumi during her final moments, but Monokuma beats her to it; the ursine cackles, brandishing its wooden hammer as it does a jig on its throne. It's far too late, it's always too late.

"Let's give it everything we've got! It's.. _**PUNISHMENT TIME!** "_

Kirumi feels tears sliding down her face. What a wonderful feeling, she thinks, relishing in it. Even when metal wraps around her neck and drags her along the ground, she focuses on the tears.

She doesn't focus on how someone screams for her. It's not good for her to focus on those things.

( _People cry for her, but she doesn't deserve it. She was just following a plan._ )

* * *

_ **GAME OVER** _

_ **KIRUMI TOJO HAS BEEN FOUND GUILTY.** _

_ **TIME FOR THE PUNISHMENT!** _

* * *

╔══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╗

 _ **< EXECUTION: Garbage Disposal ** _ **_ > _ **

**_ < EXECUTED: KIRUMI TOJO > _ **

╚══════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══════╝

* * *

Kirumi blinks, eyes unfocused as she's released in an unfamiliar place. Before she can process her surroundings, a broom is dropped in her hands—one coated with thorns and splinters, both of which are digging into her palms and only moving deeper the longer she holds onto it. She shakes, attempting to pry away from the item, but promptly gives up when it doesn't work.

Honestly, what was she expecting? To be able to _drop_ the item? Monokuma was the champion of giving people false hope, even when they'd already accepted their death.

So, instead of trying to free herself—futile, it was all futile and she knew it since the very beginning—she shakes away her dizziness and refocuses. It doesn't do much to help, as her surroundings are dark and there's only a small light source; the one coming from a tiny, _tiny_ spotlight.

More like a flashlight, in her opinion, but people who're getting executed don't dwell on such things. They dwell on getting out, on _living._ Kirumi is but another defect.

Hesitantly, the maid takes a step forward. Her shoes brush against a bag, one that's presumably holding garbage. Explains the horrendous smell wafting around her, crawling into her nostrils and making itself at home in numerous spaces.

Kirumi halts for a moment to tug at her hands again, surprised when the broom _crumbles_ like dust. It leaves the thorns in it's wake, allowing them to pierce through her skin simply because she let go. She winces loudly at the throbbing pain, but carries on regardless. It's just her hands.

Just her hands. She'll.. she'll be okay.

( _Liar._ )

Kokichi presses his head against his podium, hologram crackling and _screeching_ at the proximity. Chihiro, too, has fallen victim to sorrow—both of them are crying their eyes out, adverting them in the process to avoid having to watch someone as caring as Kirumi die.

Nobody deserved this, nobody wanted this. Yet, they were here, playing this _horrible_ game and watching people they were _just_ beginning to know for the first or second time get slaughtered like cattle.

This should've been a nightmare. It should've, truly, but it wasn't. Monokuma was real and these people were _dead_. Nothing is okay, not on Jabberwock Island or any other place Monokuma plans on sending them to in the near future.

Kirumi can't hear Nekomaru telling her where to go, nor can she hear the sobbing of her shorter peers; she cannot hear Angie's muttered prayers, even if the believer had told her off for speaking too frequently, and she cannot see the look of pure _terror_ that appears on Kiyotaka's face when she steps on a stupidly large bear trap.

The metal snaps around her leg, causing Kirumi to shriek and limp forward ever so slightly—the momentum is off, definitely, but not to the point where she falls over completely. No, she _just_ manages to keep herself upright, but she continues to wobble. The garbage bags don't help her.

( _No, they're not supposed to.)_

A gloved and shaky hand reaches down to pry it open, only getting so far before it snaps shut again and blood gushes out like a disgusting puss. Tears of pain _—not emotional, but physical pain_ —slide down her cheeks in disgustingly large portions as a result. She bares her teeth and, with a grunt, pushes the trap back open and hastily drags her limb out of it.

It snaps shut in an instant, coated in her blood. A nauseating sight that Kaede can't look away from, even when Pekoyama gags and Sayaka looks dangerously close to vomiting like last time.

Kirumi can't feel her leg, but it _hurts_. It hurts too much and she just wants to lie down and tend to it, but she can't do that. She _can't._

She continues to limp, breath hitching with hiccups and winces whenever she skims the side of a garbage bag. She's almost to the spotlight, she'll get there and then she'll lay down. Yes, she'll accept her death with open arms because she's calm.

She wants to be calm. She wants to be calm so _badly—_

And she steps on another beartrap, which causes her to tumble over and _scream._ The spotlight flickers and, in an instant, is gone. The screen is pitch black, but it's still running a live feed of what's happening. You can just _barely_ make out Kirumi's still figure.

Everyone can hear her hiccuping, sobbing. It hurts.

Something that sounds like beeping ( _like a garbage truck, almost_ ) choruses throughout the dark space, and Kaede claps her hands over her mouth when the sickening sound of crunching fills the silence. To no surprise whatsoever, Monokuma wouldn't allow Kirumi to be calm.

You cannot be calm when you've been reduced to smithereens, crumbled as if you were nothing more than _disposal garbage._ The juicy sounds of bones being crushed and organs being reduced to mush echo throughout the trial room, sickening and all-too-horrid to listen to.

Kiyotaka clutches his head and _screams;_ he doesn't want to hear this, _he doesn't want to listen to his co-leader's bone and organs and her body get crushed so brutally._ When the sounds get louder, he screams louder, all before his voice cuts out and he begins to cough, dropping to his knees and clenching his fists over his ears.

Sayaka keels over and empties out her stomach again, all whilst Kokichi's sobs get louder and far more genuine, nasty dribbles of snot oozing from his nostril as he holds his sleeve-cloaked hands over his eyes. It's not an act, _it's not an act—why isn't he acting, why isn't he being a liar?_

The spotlight turns back on, just as the grinding comes to a gradual halt. It flickers; once, twice; before something in the shadows kicks a horrifically large cube under the light.

The cube is fleshy, oozing the condensed remains of Kirumi's corpses; entrails leak off the side in a snake-like tangle, piling beside the shape whereas stray, split-off bones protrude the sides of the item. A chunk of flesh spills off the side, painting the ground with a disgusting _splat._ An eyeball pops off the side of it, all before Monokuma struts over and shoves it back into the side.

The crying gets louder. The retching doesn't stop.

_It takes Kaede a moment to realize that she's crying, too._

* * *

Mikan stares at the clock hanging above the medical ward; one that she'd been allowed to use, if only for the moment. She trusted that everyone would get the trial right and, as a result, allow her to stay in her little utopia and take proper care of Gonta as a result. After all, it wasn't like she carried around _every_ medical supply.

She steps outside again, staring at the beach with her mask sealed over her face. Although she'd been using it as decor for the time being, it came in handy when it came to how many flowers were planted in the front; her pollen allergies were far too sensitive.

After inhaling a deep breath of air and failing to see a loft rising up from the dunes, she turns her attention to the flowers—she'd located a little vase beforehand, one that she'd filled with water and set on Gonta's current nightstand. However, now she had to hunt for a flower.

For a moment, Mikan remains still, looking through tinted-lens and assessing the flowers scattered about. They came in difference sizes and patterns and shapes, but she needed one that would be most fitting for Gonta. Even if she didn't look it, she loved looking into the symbolism each flower held.

( _Even if she couldn't handle being in an area full of them, that never hindered her._ )

"Oh!" She hopped over to a particularly large one, dropping into a crouch to properly inspect it—it was purple, apparently, and had already blossomed into something far prettier than Mikan could ever imagine. "I haven't seen this one before.. it looks pretty!"

The nurse casts a look over her shoulder—no, the lift wasn't there yet, she had time to spare—before taking her supplies and digging up the flower. Hurriedly, she rushes into the room where Gonta's unconscious body was laid out, resting.. somewhat peacefully, if you didn't count the entire starvation issue.

Gently, Mikan places the flower in the pot and smiles under her mask. She doesn't care to take it off, not until she's closed the door and changed her gloves. The flower doesn't aggravate her allergies, thankfully, but she keeps a little ways from it regardless.

"Rest well, Gokuhara-kun," she whispers before going back to her stool at the window. There, she waits for the others to come back, merely hoping that everything went well and that she'd get to live to see another day.

The blossoming flower settled in the pot was none other than a beautiful, sorrowful chrysanthemum.

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter Two: The Gift Of The Chrysanthemums - END**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 21**

_****｡･ﾟﾟ･**** ( **Gonta has obtained a present:** **BROKEN BROOM** **.** ) ** **｡･ﾟﾟ･****_


	15. The Hands Inside His Stomach (Intermission II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it smells like a hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday, gonta! :)

Mikan feels bad for being overjoyed at the other's appearances—someone died, as per usual, and the lot of them looked awfully sullen. _Everyone_ looked down, prompting the nurse to ponder who'd been outed as the blackened. Definitely someone well-known, that's for sure.

Apart from Kirumi, that is. Couldn't have been her, not after all the trouble she went through explaining that she _knew_ who the blackened was.

After all, the maid knew who the culprit was and, by the looks of it, revealed the truth without too many complications. From what little Mikan knew, the maid is quite efficient when it comes to her line of work, more than anyone else present. The term 'work' being used as a very loose and general term, one that branch from herself to others without a hitch.

Mikan shifts on her stool. She thinks a little more about Kirumi's capabilities—how, if she really wanted to, she'd get away with anything on this island through exploiting the weaker and less-specific rules and then some.

( _It is likely that she, among many others, did that already._ )

( _Mikan tilts her head. No, Kirumi wouldn't do something like that._ )

Being keen enough to withhold such important information whilst straying away from the killer's clutches?; Mikan could _never,_ and she wasn't afraid to admit that. Besides, there's far too much cowardice settled in that little worker brain of hers. She'd cave as soon as someone looked at her funny, quite frankly.

For a fleeting moment, she remembers how she acted when Hajime pointed at her. Her pupils dilate slightly at the memory of screaming, all before it went black as she was shot off and never seen again.

She wonders where her corpse went. Maybe it's floating in space. Truly makes her wonder how Monokuma managed to bring her back in the first place, concerning that nothing felt _off_ about her current body. She places a hand on her stomach and presses down—she feels like giggling, and she grimaces at the realization that this _is_ her body and nothing has changed.

A heavy, gloomy sadness settles in the back of her mind at the thought. Nothing has changed.

( _She misses Hajime. He was nice to her._ )

The nurse shifts around again as the thoughts respectively begin to dissipate. No need to rope them back in, not when they weren't welcome in the first place. Oh, but what if—

A drawn out beep, one that's worryingly long and ear-splitting, reaches Mikan's ears. She throws herself from her seat, skittering over toward Gonta and tampering with his unconscious form, all while fretting over possibly having him _die,_ if only because she wasn't watching him closely enough.

A long, flat and straight line crosses the monitor and the nurse nearly _screams._ Gonta Gokuhara is dying, he's _dying_ and she's already trying to figure out a way to explain his death without getting mauled by Monokuma.

The male is still. He looks at peace, almost.

Oh, this is _bad_.

How could she be so neglectful, so _forgetful_ that she needed to keep watch of the male? His heart had already slowed a dangerous amount due to passing out and the whole starvation thing he had going on—when did it _ever_ become okay to sit around, watching and waiting for someone to enter the ward?

It was never okay to do that, she realizes, squeaking as she bumps into the monitor by accident. Oh, curse her stupid clumsiness, always messing everything up—

The beeping stops for a moment, soon returning to the rhythmic and slow tempo it'd been at prior to the flatline. For a moment, she doesn't move, eyes wandering around the scene. Scared that she may have pulled at the wrong item along the way, Mikan fumbles around with Gonta's IV; gently, in a manner that doesn't disrupt the blood being distributed through his veins.

Ah. There's a knot forming there, near the base of the equipment—definitely a problem, although the flatline was most likely caused by the male's slowed heartbeat. Starvation tends to do that, from what she'd learned in her days as a nurse and assistant ( _and maybe a Remnant, although she'd never_ _know_ ).

Well, what she could _remember_ from said days. Everything was all a bit too foggy for her liking, to be honest.

She bites her lip before skittering back toward a shelf, one decorated with pill bottles and liquid medicines ( _among other medical supplies, of course_ ). After doing a quick scan, she pulls a syringe and some of the liquefied medicine from their respective perches. They feel heavier than they did the last time she administered them, if only because Gonta's blood clots were forming a lot more frequently.

Perhaps she could give him some water, too. When he wakes up, that is. His low blood pressure was far more concerning at the moment.

"A-another dose of the Heparin," she utters sheepishly. "This is the second time.. I really hope Tojo-san can convince you to t-take better care of yourself in the near future; this is really u-unhealthy..!"

Gonta doesn't reply. Typical.

Fortunately, he's still knocked out—if he was awake, he'd probably grumble and squirm around whenever she administered the medicine. One of the lesser symptoms of starving oneself was apathy; which meant that, if this action was deliberate and planned to some extent, Gonta wouldn't care about what Mikan had to say to him. If anything, he'd be completely out of it, void of all emotion.

Truly, she hopes it wouldn't come to that. Not many people try to be nice to her, the only fonder memories being either too recent or too far down the line. She didn't want to remember anything right now, not when she was pushing a needle into her patient's arm and watching the liquid drain gradually.

A jingle fills the tense atmosphere, prompting Mikan to look up from her work. There, walking into the ward, stand two familiar faces—one far more welcoming than the others, albeit all of them are stiff and like the others. Their expressions are the same, to no surprise.

Sullen. They look very, very sullen, and Mikan doesn't know who died. Not yet. She doesn't think she wants to know, she'll find out on her own. That's how things usually went.

That's how things are supposed to be.

"Is he okay?" Kaede's the first to speak up, whereas the likes of Kokichi—who's fist is clenched _tightly_ around the fabric of the former's sleeve, almost like a hesitant child—keeps his head down and his mouth shut. "Gokuhara-kun, I mean. Is.. he alright?"

Mikan furrows her brow slightly. She pulls the syringe away from the unconscious male, who doesn't even _stir_ in the slightest; he looks dead, almost, but he's not pale and the slow rise of his chest indicates that his lungs are still functioning. Therefore, by default, his _brain_ is also functioning, which means he's not dead. Not that Mikan would let a patient die.

( _For a moment, Ibuki comes to mind; then she's gone._ )

( _Not too different from real life._ )

The nurse shudders at the thoughts before placing the item back on its respective rack. In the meantime, she fumbles with the medicine, the one that'd been squeezed into Gonta's veins _twice_ ; roughly once every hour. "H-he'll be fine," she utters, taking care to stay balanced as she goes to put away the Heparin. "With the o-occasional injection and constant supervision—both before and after he w-wakes up—he'll be okay."

Mikan stops for a moment. ".. P-physically, that is."

Mondo, who'd tagged along and loomed over everyone present, quirks a brow. His hands are stuffed deep into his pockets, but one could see the outline of his closed fists if they looked close enough. The mess flares around his waistline as he bares his teeth, "whaddya mean by that?"

With a small hum, the nurse places the medicine beside the syringe. A good place—easy to access and whatnot, especially when she's in a rush to medicate the male. Once an hour wasn't _that_ bad. Perhaps she's only saying that because she's the Ultimate Nurse and, as a result of her specialty, taking care of others is a walk in the park. Perhaps; she wouldn't know.

Not now, anyways. She's trying to converse with the patient's.. 'friends', per say. Once again, Mikan wouldn't know.

"His mental state h-has definitely taken a h-hit from this." She feels the urge to bow her head and give them her condolences, but refrains. He's not dead, _he's not dead, he's breathing and the heart monitor has yet to flatline again._ "S-so, if this was deliberate, h-he'll be experiencing apathetic or l-listless behavior.. well, even if this w-wasn't deliberate, he'll still be tired and will have problems w-with concentrating..!"

"Talk therapy, among many other social activities w-will be an absolute must once he regains c-consciousness!"

Mondo winces, whereas Kokichi bites his thumb. Kaede, ever the optimist, takes a step forward—the smallest of the three, the one latched to her side like a leech, advances with her. However, the biker keeps his distance.

Mikan finds herself appreciating the way Mondo keeps his distance. She doesn't fear him, nor does she feel threatened by him; he slouches and forces his hands deeper into the pits of his pockets. He looks the _least_ threatening, and that's saying something—after all, he's the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader. One would not expect that level of courtesy from the likes of him.

Then again, one would not expect the level of cynicism Mikan tends to exhibit. Looks are _naturally_ deceiving, as rancid as that sounds. Or maybe not, for a select few.

( _Depends on the person, Mikan supposes.._ )

The nurse draws herself from her thoughts for the umpteenth time—luckily for her, she's quick enough to grasp her senses and listen to what Kaede's taken to blabbering about. Oh, but that sounds mean. She doesn't want to be mean to the pianist, if only because she's trying to better herself and the piano-lover seems.. somewhat trustworthy.

Somewhat. You never know with how these killing games went, especially with someone as nice as Kirumi being here. Truly makes her wonder when the female will come around and visit Gonta, seeing as she was keen on keeping him stable before his eating problems came to light.

Kaede frowns, brow furrowing further than Mikan'd ever seen it go. A surprising feat, although it shouldn't have been; not when it was about an unconscious and occasionally ( _and previously_ ) dead companion. Albeit was quite obvious and the former was probably aware of it, something deep within the nurse wanted to inform her of her current emotional state.

She refrains, choosing to keep Gonta stabilized for the time being. Kokichi's fists whiten. Mondo begins to worry at his lower lip.

Hesitantly, slowly, as if she's speaking to a feral animal, Kaede begins to speak. Again, because Mikan wasn't paying attention the first time, apparently. "Tsumiki-san," she begins; slowly, _slowly_ , it's almost _offensive,_ "how.. would any of us handle 'talk therapy' when we've been—"

"Don't." Mikan is surprised with how fast she managed to utter the word, as is the pianist. It's silent, if only for a moment, before the typically nervous nurse shakes her head. "Y-you.. don't need to finish that s-sentence. I'm not sure h-how we'll be able to handle the t-therapy, but it's mostly just talking him t-through it all."

She puts on a smile—something she learned from a retail worker back when things were a little more simple. A little less frantic, perhaps, as she could live peacefully back then. Back then.. oh, but she didn't like what happened back then.

She doesn't think anyone wants to _fully_ remember 'back then'.

( _Frantic pink_ _locks dance around the rims of her eyeballs. They tickle._ )

( _Then they sting—oh, how they sting!_) 

"R-regardless, I'm sure Tojo-san can keep him stabilized! She's v-very reliable and Gonta trusts h-her, right?"

Mikan doesn't like how Kokichi pales, nor does she like how Mondo's teeth sink _deep_ into the flesh of his lower lip—he gnaws and gnaws until she can see a small speck of blood trickle down from the punctured skin. She nearly trots over to fix the wound, but she stands her ground and glances at Gonta's heart monitor.

Stable. For now, at least, as it never seemed to _stay_ like that. It'll take awhile for his heart to adjust to the medicine, she supposes, but at least his heart hasn't stopped permanently. Kirumi would kill her if she ever let something happen to the male.

With a thoughtful hum, she handles Gonta's IV cord in her hands, balancing it on warm palms. No, she'd keep him safe regardless.

"Mikan," Mondo starts cautiously— _again, with the slowness, as if they're afraid they'll teeter her over an edge or something like that—_

"Kirumi is dead," Kokichi finishes. He looks frazzled at the words that escape his mouth, pulling a tight-lipped expression upon realizing what he'd uttered.

But it was far too late to take it back. Far, _far_ too late to claim that it was a sick joke ( _because Kokichi probably likes sick jokes, right? He should, he definitely should)_.

He sounded too honest for his own good.

Maybe he _is_ being too honest for his own good, because Kaede squeezes his shoulder harshly. Harsh enough to make him seethe out a pained wince through gritted teeth.

( _He's not lying._ )

Mikan halts in her tracks. She then, with the gradualness of a snail, with no hurry whatsoever, turns toward the biker. Lavender eyes stare the male down, causing him to hide his bloodied lip and advert his eyes. He can't look at her, the nurse knows this, and it's still surprising to her.

It takes her a moment to properly soak in the information. Kirumi is dead.

The nurse's skin suddenly feels clammy, eyes spiraling as she stares off into the distance—she's unfocused, _completely_ catatonic with a long strand of Gonta's IV cord laying in her open palms. It slides off some, all before going slack and hanging once more. She doesn't move.

Then, with a cruel mixture of sorrow and softness, " _oh._ " It's the only sound that she can make. Nobody blames her.

At least, Mikan _thinks_ nobody blames her. Not like she could actually correct herself for her previous remarks, assuming that Kirumi was alive all this time. That'd explain why everyone was so down, so _gloomy—_ she'd been avoiding the truth, acting like Kirumi couldn't have been been the culprit.

She said she knew, right? Then.. she knew because _she did it._ With a good reason, maybe, but Mikan couldn't comprehend _why._ Maybe to keep multiple people from dying at a time? It was easy, but difficult all the same.

Mikan never knew Kirumi. She would've never been able to know her motives, what could possibly drive her to murder. The maid was nothing but a temporary comfort for the nurse, a temporary _mother,_ and now that trial had expired. It had expired, and Mikan was left to sit in the debris of an unfulfilled existence.

For a moment, she finds herself thinking about what Kirumi told her—during her self-isolation that she endured shortly after Mukuro was executed. She remembers a hand patting down her hair, braiding and untying strands as she cooed gentle, soothing words to the nurse. Words that, after they settled into her brain, urged her to walk out onto Jabberwock Island and face the trauma she'd been forced to relive.

Then she found Tenko's dead body and Miu started pointing at her—she closes her eyes, squeezing them shut and purging the memories. They'd happened mere hours ago. She'd been crying over the aikido master's corpse _mere hours ago,_ and now she had to mourn Kirumi.

Not when she was working. She wouldn't endanger Gonta because her vision was blurred by her tears. So, with a small sniffle, Mikan wipes at her teary eyes with the side of her arm. No, she won't cry, not when she's working. Later.

She'll mourn silently till then.

By the time she grounds herself, her gloves are sticking to her hands and preventing her from focusing on much else. Her skin is still clammy, to no surprise, and she lets out a shuddering sigh at the feeling. Makes her feel alive, and she despises it. Ever since Ibuki died, she wanted nothing to do with anyone else here. Nobody but Tenko and Kirumi, and all of them were _dead_.

( _She can't catch a break. Everyone she tries to trust either uses her or dies._ )

( _Pitiful little Mikan. Some things never change._ )

Mondo notices her distress faster than the other two. Before Kaede can take a step forward and seize the nurse's shoulder—which would've been, in hindsight, a horrible decision—the biker drops a heavy hand onto the pianist's shoulder. She comes to a complete stop, allowing Mikan to scuttle away from the medical set-up and _properly_ ground herself.

"You can't jus' tell someone Kirumi _died_ and expect 'em to wanna be touched." His voice is oddly comforting, even if the context isn't as soft as one would like it to be. If anything, the nurse would rather listen to him recite a bedtime story. "Give her a second or two."

Kokichi tugs on Kaede's sleeve, successfully unfreezing her after the fifth pull. She swallows either a protest or a bile before nodding, attempting to swiftly correct the sorrowful scrunch overtaking her features. She succeeds after a moment or two, although Mikan's stuck in her own respective world at the moment. She can't afford to focus on the other's expressions—not now, not when she was digesting the death of a loved one.

Was Kirumi _really_ a loved one? Perhaps she was overreacting about this, just like she'd done when she was trapped in that _hellish_ 'relationship' with—

The thought stops there, fortunately. She doesn't want to think about the pink locks that're dancing in the corners of her eyes. She doesn't want the think about the way they sting her and drag her deeper into that horrendous pit of _disgust and hatred._ She thinks of Ibuki and Hiyoko—one who cared for her in a strange manner and another who ridiculed her to hell and back.

Mikan doesn't know why she misses someone who hurt her at any given moment. Maybe it's because Hiyoko wasn't as bad as _her_. Maybe, maybe not. She despises herself.

She's forced out of her thoughts when another long-winded beep echoes throughout the ward. Her body remains stiff and unforgiving—one second, two seconds, three seconds—then she nearly tears out her hair for forgetting to do what she'd been taught to do to prevent a flatline.

How the _hell_ did she forget to do the continual chest compression; to give him the _right_ injection that was more than just blot clot prevention? She wasn't too sure, but it definitely has something to do with the amount of stress she's been forced to endure as of right. She'd never had someone flatline _multiple times_ and still survive, thus leading her to believe that Monokuma specifically rigged these devices to do this.

That little prick.

That _fucking_ prick, son of a _bitch—_

Her voice is shrill, obviously panicked as her stuttering becomes a lot more apparent than before; or maybe that's just because she's spitting out shorter sentences. Not the most important thing to be pondering about as of right, concerning the fact that someone is _literally dying._ "P-please excuse me f-for a second!"

Mikan maneuvers past Kokichi's blanched form, nabbing the syringe from its perch and hurriedly searching the drawers for the needed medication—it doesn't take too long, fortunately, and she's left to tear a vasopressin injection from its container and settle it into the syringe somewhat flimsily.

Within seconds of getting the needed supplies to keep Gonta stabilized, the nurse frantically lifts one of his sleeves and penetrates his upper arm with the needle of the syringe. A long, shuddering sigh of relief overtakes her as she administers the medicine, soon moving to push down on his chest.

The prolonged beep soon returns to its rhythm, prompting Mikan to remove her hands from Gonta's chest and heave out a _heavy_ sigh. Meanwhile, the trio watch her with scared and astounded gazes, mouths agape as they attempt to voice their thoughts, but to no avail. Kokichi shuts his mouth first, making a loud 'pop' due to the way his cheeks flare up as he seals his lips.

Reminds Mikan of a chipmunk. Not a pleasant chipmunk, but a chipmunk nonetheless.

( _.. Where did that come from?_)

Her thoughts feel scrambled, as if they're searching for things to focus on—searching for things that'll _take her mind off of the situation._ Rather difficult when you're standing beside a heart monitor, but it is what it is. Which is, quite honestly, rather unfortunate. If only she could've picked a profession that _wasn't_ being a nurse, maybe she'd be a little less stressed and a lot more mentally stable.

.. Regardless of her being a nurse or not, her lack of mental stability wouldn't chance, she realizes. The thought makes her frown, although the downturn of her lips is washed away with haste when she remembers her audience; Kaede, Kokichi and Mondo are still standing idly, watching her with those bulging eyes of theirs. She wonders why her work is so extraordinary to them.

Mikan's not the Ultimate Nurse for nothing, after all. It'd be a disgrace to her title if she couldn't keep someone as stubborn and self-neglecting as Gonta alive. Not only that, but he was a nice person.

A nice person who deserves to, at the very _least_ , know about Kirumi's fate before he dies. The two were definitely close, judging by how motherly the latter was to the entomologist, so it'd was simply respectful to tell him. When he wakes up and isn't void of basic human emotions such as empathy, that is; it'll take some time, and there's always the chance of him finding out himself, but..

( _Not like there's much to work with in the first place._ )

In an attempt to disguise her discomfort, Mikan clasps her hands together—her hands are still clammy and shaky, but she'll manage. The gradual and continual beeping of the monitor is only a little annoying. Just a little. "I-I would suggest keeping that information t-to yourselves for the moment," she utters.

When Kaede opens her mouth—most likely to protest, as she seems to be _really_ good at persuading people into doing 'considerate' and 'kind' things for others—Mikan shakes her head. Even if she was trying to be considerate or something, that'd do more harm than good.

"I-I mean it! Apathy and l-listlessness would keep him from giving a proper response to the i-information; he'll be extremely inconsiderate a-and won't even care."

The nurse gulps down an apology that tries to swell in her throat, choosing to continue before it can breach the barrier of her lips. "Not only that, b-but he'll be stressed and destructive based off of his previous behavior, s-so it's best to wait until he's properly stabilized!"

Another apology attempts to claw its way out of her mouth, prompting Mikan to grit her teeth. She doesn't need to apologize for telling them what they should and shouldn't do with their unconscious companion. It's just a diagnostic of sorts—right, that's what it is, that's how she'll justify speaking like she has _authority_ over someone.

( _None of these thoughts are fun. She wants them gone._ )

Mondo, who'd been spectating from a distance ( _a smart choice, really, concerning the locale_ ), fixes his face. To the best of his abilities, anyways—his eyes are still rounded in confusion, among other conflicting emotions.

".. So after he's gone through therapy or somethin'?" The biker inquires, quirking a brow. "Whaddya mean by 'stabilized'; y'can't just expect us to know what yer talking about right off the bat, y'know?" He crosses his arms across his chest, as if the movement would emphasize his point; in a way, it did, simply because it made him look a little larger than life.

Just a little, concerning the fact that he was just as human as Mikan was. Having that knowledge was somehow comforting; maybe because it's another reminder that not everyone was above her. Maybe, just maybe, she was capable of being treated like a normal human being.

Just like everyone else.

Mikan feels a little tipsy from the thought—a sudden shot of euphoria, if you will. However, she collects herself with haste, not wanting to leave Mondo's question( _s?_ ) unanswered. "S-sometime after the therapy takes place, yes! H-he can't be thrust into the gist of it right away, though, s-so he'll have to be eased into everything. Just f-for the first couple of days."

Kokichi's eyes widen comically at that. His grip on Kaede tightens, as shown by how the woman attempts to pull her arm away from him ( _to no avail—he's surprisingly strong_ ). "Days? He's gonna be here for _days?_ "

There's a threatening aura about him when he speaks, as if he wasn't the visual equivalent of a lost child. His eyes bore into the nurse, who manages to stay docile and reserved; not finicky or scared, none of that. She can't feel threatened by someone who looks lost. Being threatened by a broken person was outlandish to her.

Normally, one would not be deterred by someone who looks like a child. However, Hiyoko looked like a child and Mikan was quite terrified of her. At first, at least, because she was always a 'caring person' and melted whenever someone gave her a _speck_ of positivity.

Looking back at it, Kokichi reminds her of Hiyoko. She subdues the urge to pinch his ear and drag him outside. It's in her best interest to remain docile, especially in a moment like this, in a _time_ like this. To make an enemy is to wish death upon yourself.

There's no point in dying, not yet. Maybe she'll find a point to it later down the line, but until then..

Mikan hovers a hand over her chest, feigning a soft and gentle smile. It hides the malice swelling inside of her, thrumming from the depths of her heart and waiting to explode. Waiting and waiting; soon, it will combust, it will spill out in tedious amounts. But not now, not in front of them. Soon, however. Soon.

Till then, she'll live peacefully; for Ibuki, Tenko and Kirumi. They'd want her to live, they'd want _everyone_ to live. Alas, it's not like that's possible. Not in a situation like this, where four people have been killed off already. How long have they been here? A handful of days, surely.

Mikan can't remember. She'd isolated herself a moment too long, she supposes. A shame, really. She wonders what day it is.

The thrumming in her heart begins to trill. It will shriek in due time. Mikan can only think about the words the shriek will contain—maybe it's another breakdown, like the one she endured when the witness didn't step forward? She's not excited for that. Crying and grieving over the loss of someone wasn't a nice way to pass the time, y'know.

Her smile becomes strained. "If he doesn't s-stay here, he'll die from his own negligence! Assuming y-you don't want that, you'll let me do what I n-need to do, Ouma-kun." Lavender eyes stare into grape-purple ones, blank and unforgiving. She is merciful to those who fall under her care by choice.

She doesn't need to tolerate the slander Kokichi gives her. Especially when it seems like Kaede's the only one giving him a chance; she knows about Gonta's particular distaste for the little brat. Her eyes narrow a little before she looks to the others.

( _Oh, understanding such things makes it easier._ )

"For now, h-he'll be out of it for a while," Mikan chirps, as if she hadn't given Kokichi a retort. Said male goes back to munching at his thumb, seemingly realizing that it's not his place to be threatening—especially toward the person keeping his 'companion' alive ( _from what Kirumi told her, he was a lot less than a companion_). "If you w-want, I can give you a rough estimate on when he'll w-wake up."

Mondo quirks his brow again, whereas Kaede's eyes glimmer with hope—just for a moment, and it's a wonderful sight. To think, someone actually thought that there was some sort of hope in this situation.. it felt a little too surreal for her liking, honestly. The pianist nods eagerly, all while the little liar continues to cling to her arm.

Mikan rids herself of her faux smile, looking to the entomologist. His chest rises and falls in time with the tiny mountains on the heart monitor; up, down, up, down. At a glance, one would assume he was at peace. Mikan knows better. Nobody is at peace after starving themselves to the point of passing out. That's not how this works.

She stares at the IV, which has shifted from inserting blood into the male ( _yeah, this was definitely operated by Monokuma; strange_ ) to actual nutrients. Better than force-feeding him solid food and getting a plastic spoon lodged in his throat or something like that.

Mikan's not in the right headspace to do surgery. Maybe another time, when it was actually necessary or the like. She could only hope that it wouldn't come to that, but you never know what'll happen. After all, Kirumi _killed_ someone. Nobody was expecting that, but it happened.

Expect the unexpected, some may say. Mikan'll just sit in the medical ward for the time being—until she can remove the topic of Kirumi's death from her head. If she's not careful, she'll utter it to Gonta as soon as he wakes up. He'd probably just stare at her if she did that.

Too embarrassing. Can't do that, _can't do that._

Trained and semi-precise eyes scan over prescription bottle labels warily. Quite a few of the labels read ' **WEIGHT LOSS PILLS** '; truly makes Mikan wonder who'd need that. Then again, that shouldn't be her main concern. Not right now, when Kaede was watching her closely and waiting for her estimation.

( _Monokuma was quite the comedian, no?_ )

Mikan taps at her bottom lip—once, twice—"With the a-advanced technology Monokuma's given me.. roughly three days, n-not counting today." She nods to herself, pleased with her answer. Yes, that sounds about right. A little less logical than she'd like, but she'll make due with what she has.

"Really? _Just_ three days?" Mondo takes a step forward, inspecting the ward with a judgmental expression. Can't blame him for that one; she, too, was a little cautious of the locale at first. "I thought it'd take—I dunno, a _week_ or somethin' like that."

"Ultimate Nurse," Mikan says. Doesn't necessarily answer the male's question—if that could be classified as a question in the first place, that is—but it's definitely something. A very vague explanation, at best. "If Monokuma's technology wasn't h-here, _then_ it'd take a week. F-fortunately, that's not the case—"

Kaede bows her head abruptly, snatching her arm from Kokichi to push his down, too. Mondo glances over at them before perking up, seemingly getting the gist of what they were doing. Unlike those two, he bends his entire body forward, doing a _full-blown_ bow. More than just a little sudden, to be honest, but Mikan's mouth stops operating at that very moment.

"Thank you for helping Gokuhara-kun!" Kaede chimes somewhat loudly, and Mikan spares a glance at Gonta to ensure he's still asleep. "We'll be leaving him in your care for the time being—I can only hope that this isn't too much of an inconvenience!"

The sincerity in her voice makes Mikan want to melt. She smiles again, softer this time around, and bites back a soft giggle at Kaede's words. Oh, she hasn't felt like this for long a while. For a moment, the trilling calms and dies out, leaving a barely familiar fuzzy feeling in its place. She must admit; she prefers the fuzziness to her disdain she'd felt mere moments ago.

When was the last time she felt like this? She faintly remembers, but she doesn't want to delve back into that. Not when she's trying to keep someone alive. She'll dig up her old scars later on, picking and making herself bleed all over again. Till then, however, she'll appreciate the kindness being bestowed upon her.

Is this actually kindness? Mikan wouldn't know.

The trio leaves without much fanfare after that, leaving Mikan with her chaotic mixture of stress and fuzziness. She knows the latter of the two will fade in due time, so she revels in it; just this once, as a treat of sorts. Something deep within her claims that she doesn't deserve to feel warm inside, and she knows why it's there. Something else claims that she doesn't deserve to feel stressed.

It's impossible to listen to either of them. So, fruitlessly, the nurse ignores both of them in favor of getting back to work. Not like Gonta's going to get better by himself, especially in three days. No, she needs to work on him consistently; hourly check-ups and the like.

Lavender eyes gaze out the window of the ward. Slowly, they return to Gonta, who remains catatonic and motionless. If one were naive and/or dumb, they'd assume he was dead. In a way, he is dead. _Everyone_ is dead, but not physically. Not anymore.

With a sigh, the nurse moves away from the window and draws the curtains. The purple chrysanthemum shudders in its pot, but it's fine. It can go a little while without light; it'd been basking in the beams for quite some time, anyways.

Mikan forces herself to smile. It doesn't reach her eyes, doesn't even come close, but it's definitely a smile. Not all smiles are positive ones, after all. People smile when they're sad, when they're stressed—it's just a thing that people do with their faces in different situations. This is only moderately different.

It's not everyday you wake up after dying and get thrown into a killing game. No, it's really not, but Mikan's living through that situation right now. She doesn't like it; nobody here likes it, especially the people who've already moved on and died again.

"Let's get you fixed up, Gokuhara-kun."

The thrumming returns. The fuzziness is gone. As if nothing changed at all.

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Intermission: The Hands Inside His Stomach - END**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 21**


	16. A Good Day To Die (Daily Life I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone does their job.

** _MONOKUMA THEATER_ **

_'What do you think of this,' begins the raven._

_'This place of drunken kindness and selfishness.'_

_The nurse is silent. She twiddles her thumbs._

_The raven continues; 'you are but a pawn here.'_

_'I know,' says the nurse._

_'But they are sick! They are all sick!'_

_The nurse is frantic. The nurse is scared._

_'I must help them!'_

_'You are sick,' replies the raven._

_'Why mustn't you help yourself?'_

_The nurse does not answer._

_The raven shakes its head._

_'You are sick.'_

* * *

_"Good morning, everyone! It is now 7 a.m. and **nighttime** is officially over! Time to rise and shine! Get ready to greet another beee-yutiful day!"_

* * *

The crackling of an intercom forces the residents of Jabberwock island from their slumber. Some people hiss through the announcement, burrowing deeper into their respective mattresses and going slack once more.

Others are incapable of remaining in bed after the announcement—they're the first ones out and about, as they were before the disaster that is this situation. They don't talk to one another, purposefully avoiding confrontation in light of _recent events._

( _Just thinking about it brings about a plethora of horrible thoughts._ )

( _Shouldn't be thinking about it._ )

If only Mikan could go back to sleep like some of the others. Alas, there are other things to worry about—her sleep schedule could afford a blow or two, especially if it means she'll be excused from a horrendous execution. If her first execution was as tame as being blown into outer space; in contrast to getting her head blown to smithereens; then she didn't want to be executed again.

Not that her view could change in the first place. Her job is to keep Gonta alive and ( _reasonably_ ) healthy; the same can be applied to the other participants on the island. That is, if people allow her to work with them. People like Nagito would rather keep their distance, from the looks of it.

No need to worry about that. The Ultimate Lucky Student manages to curb all sorts of diseases and the like; he's practically immune to things that people would normally succumb _immediately_ to. He's quite the enigma.

Mikan squints at the thought. Even so, Nagito's not exempt from her care, nobody is. That's just inconsiderate.

She's a nurse. She's not allowed to be inconsiderate, even in a dire situation like this.

Everyone's health is her priority, even it it interferes with _her_ health. Not that she'd ever gotten _sick_ before, as she was extremely cautious with the activities she partakes in. Even if she's allergic to pollen, that doesn't mean she's incapable of taking care of herself—surprisingly enough, she always manages to curb ( _most of_ ) the hay fever's symptoms.

To the best of her ability, anyways. Having an itchy nose is the _least_ of her worries. After all, there are people _dying_ here; she might be next if she's not careful enough.

Mikan blinks. She doesn't want to die again. She'll have to be with _her_ again, and that was a fate worse than death. A fate that worsened the death, pardon her wordage.

It's a little too early in the morning to inject another dose. However, that doesn't stop Mikan from rising from her bed and stretching her arms over her head. Before she returned to her cabin for the night, Monokuma had taken away access to the island the hospital was on. For the remainder of that day, that is, because she knew it'd be open the very next day.

Every hospital has a closing time. This is no different.

( _.. The killing game is the only difference._ )

The nurse continues to stretch until she feels _something_ pop in her dominant arm—the good kind of pop, of course. She yawns soon after, rubbing at her eyes with her knuckles. Gosh, she hates how the sun creeps into her window.

Too bright for her liking.

Blindly, Mikan picks up her clothing—one at a time, of course, because she's still quite groggy. The bleached outfit will, without a doubt, make her sweat ( _assuming the sun's beating down as heavy as she thinks it is_ ) bullets. However, she can't be bothered to care about it, especially since she wouldn't be outside for long in the first place. Not if she's gonna be in Gonta's ward for the next few days..

Lavender pupils dilate as she sits down on the edge of her mattress, pulling on her shoes and fastening the laces. Well, she fastens the laces on _one_ shoe, because the other's laces were always fastened.

A small grunt escapes her as she pushes herself off the bed, taking a moment to stretch yet again. Something pops in her leg this time; she lets loose a sigh, knowing that she'll have to do the same thing after dealing with Gonta for the day.

Taking care of him is a hassle, really. Mikan can only hope that Monokuma will continue to supply the needed medication and quit stocking the drawers with weight loss medicine. It's a horrible way of reminding her and everyone who wishes to visit the bedridden entomologist.

With a small hum, she reminds herself to feed Jelly. The frog may be immortal ( _from what little information Monokuma gives on the items obtained from the MonoMono Machine_ ), but feeding it was the right thing to do.

Morally, that is.

She snags a pair of reading glasses from her nightstand, haphazardly pushing them on and blinking several times. It takes some time to adjust to the specs, but not too long.

Mikan'd only recently acquired them, but they were helpful. To some extent. After all, she always had a hard time reading things that were a bit too close. The glasses were nice, especially since she didn't have to get on the ground and beg someone for them. Not that she would do such a thing in the first place; such a request would end badly.

You can never ask someone for too much. They'll turn on you if they find out how selfish you're being.

( _You can't be selfish if you want someone to help. You can't, you can't, **you can't—**_ )

The thought fades from her mind as quick as it intrudes. Regardless, it leaves her in a dormant state, fingers brushing against the respective stems of her glasses. She closes her eyes, if only to recollect herself, before shaking her head—she shouldn't let these thoughts get to her. It's too early for this.

.. That sounds plausible. Yeah, it's too early for this. Most definitely too early; after all, she _just_ woke up.

She can afford to make that excuse, even if she _did_ lay awake for the majority of the night. Her dreams ( _more like nightmares_ ) were a bit too judgmental for her liking, even if it was just some amalgamation of a creature she didn't particularly fancy.

A shudder runs down her spine at the thought of it. Gosh, did she hate it when her mind confronted her like this. Nobody here is sick, why would it ever try to convince her of such a thing? It was uncanny and Mikan wasn't fond of it in the _slightest._

Ravens and crows always succeeded in scaring Mikan, as do _many_ other entities. Animals never fancied her lest she healed them or brought food out first and foremost. Even then, some of them would hiss and snap at her after her acts of kindness. It wasn't fair.

Selfish, that's what they were, but they didn't get scolded for it. They weren't punished for having a list of wants and needs; they weren't punished for refusing to _trust someone_. If anything, it was expected, and that _wasn't fair._

Mikan despises it. She envies it with her entire being, but refuses to do anything about it. The animals deserve love, they truly do, and all of their actions toward humans are justified.

She doesn't know if she can say the same for herself.

( _..._ )

With a sigh, the nurse begins to wrap fresh bandages around her hands. The old ones were damp and dirtied, both by work and anxiety. Sweat wore down their durability, leaving them useless and unimportant. They're unraveled in a trashcan; _somewhere_ in the hospital ward. One shouldn't task themselves with locating it. Trash is not meant to be sought out ( _depending on your.. mannerisms.._ ).

"Another d-day," she murmurs to herself. Maybe she's murmuring to no one—it's hard to tell, but she doesn't dwell on the thought for long. Not when she has a patient to check on. Who knows what Monokuma could've done under the cover of the stars. Were there even any stars in the sky last night? She didn't check.

Ah, but she doesn't need to scramble her shredded sleep schedule to look for _stars_. That sounds like something Kaito would do. Mikan doesn't think about recommending the activity to him—he probably already does it, although it's not advised due to the lack of safety during a killing game.

Perhaps she'll give him a tip on keeping quiet, maybe removing himself from sight. Both would prove to be helpful, most definitely. She smiles faintly at the idea of helping someone out during these trying times.

Everyone here needs help. Mikan just needs to help them, all of them.. assuming she's around long enough to accomplish such a feat. She's unsure of herself, unsure of her ability to _live._

For as long as she doesn't get sick, she'll be okay. Sickness drove her to murder last time. She doesn't want to murder anyone, not again.

"Another day!" Mikan repeats, louder than the first time. Her voice cracks before she can finish the sentence, and she stifles a wince at how pathetic it sounds. Not convincing in the slightest. "J-just.. need to get through this..!"

Her words no longer motivate her. They only remind her of how helpless she is to this situation, how _susceptible_ she'll be.

Mikan balls her fists, nearly digging her fingers into her bandage-encased wrist; she narrowly avoids tearing a layer off, knowing that she wouldn't want to undo them. Nobody wants to see the scars left behind from resurrection. They looked like burns, ones that'd blackened due to rotting and a lack of oxygen.

They're disgusting. Just thinking about them makes her want to recoil and hurl, but she recollects herself before that can happen. She needs to take care of the people around her, not worry about the external injuries she'd sustained after death, _during_ death.

The nurse assumes that the case is the same for everyone else, especially Gonta—she remembers trying to remove his glove, only to get a giant spike in the heart monitor.

Scared her half to death, it did.

( _Oh_ _. That 'joke' wasn't on purpose._ )

( _She didn't.._ )

Mikan forces herself to stop thinking about what she'd done. She doesn't want to feel guilty for that, not when she didn't mean to do it in the first place.

It takes a long while to exit the faux comfort of her cabin, but the sun is awfully bright today. The nurse can only hope that the brightness of the locale won't be one of Monokuma's twisted motives; melting like a candle doesn't sound appetizing. No, not in the slightest, which was why Mikan was _hoping_ that wasn't the case. However, she's very aware that this, most likely, isn't real-life.

Not if Monokuma was alive. It _definitely_ shouldn't be alive and everyone here should've been able to rest easy. Should've.

Even in death, Monokuma never lets anyone have the things they want. Sighing, the nurse crosses her arms and closes her eyes. A bummer, definitely, but Mikan'll make the most of it. After all, she's going to be working in the hospital for a _long_ while, so some fresh air couldn't—

"Oh! Mikan, darling, there you are!"

Said nurse jolts at the abrupt calling of her name, her muscles seizing up out of pure instinct. Oh, darling is a _bad_ word—a wretched, horrible word that she despises with entirety of her being. Even as she thinks of the many ways she could react, she remains dormant, fists clenched at her sides.

The door to her cabin is only slightly ajar behind her. She could fall back and hide in there; her legs won't move, _why won't they move?_

( _Pink locks breach her vision. Not again, not again—_)

Light footsteps that're only emphasized by the occasional creak trot along the boardwalk, and Mikan is glued in place. She knows the person who called her is closing in, wasting no time at all with their brisk movements; the wooden boards creak beneath their feet with every step, resulting in their location being known at ( _almost_ ) all times. For now, at least, because nobody knows when the creaking'll stop.

Maybe the creaking'll stop _right_ beside her, resulting in her neck being snapped instantly. Or maybe her assailant will push her back into her cabin, slaughtering there and leaving her to never be found? Oh, poor Gonta, he'll never—

"Hey, hey—Mikan, are you alright?" A cheerful voice croons softly, reassuringly, much closer than before. "Oh, you poor thing! Breathe a little, calm down—nobody's gonna hurt you, I promise!"

Oh. That's.. that's a nice voice. The term 'darling' sounds a little better than before. Hesitantly, Mikan flutters open her eyes, only to be met with a familiar and somewhat concerned face—the other's expression, however, quickly melts into one of giddiness and child-like excitement, and Mikan is taken aback.

Angie grins broadly and pats Mikan's shoulder, causing the latter to flinch away and bump into her door. It creaks open some, only to be shut hurriedly by the nurse; she doesn't need to retreat, not when the former means no harm. Allegedly, that is. You can never be too sure.

In any case, Mikan doesn't want to be murdered in her cabin.

The two stare at each other for a prolonged period of time, frantic clashing with ecstatic. Neither of them say anything—Angie does a little dance, whereas Mikan trembles a little more than she usually does. They're on completely different wavelengths, holding different views on their current situation.

Perhaps that's a good thing. Surrounding yourself with negativity when you, yourself are negative.. sounds like a recipe for disaster, one that Mikan knows very well. Doesn't mean she's fond of having that knowledge, nor is she fond of the way she _discovered_ said knowledge. Sometimes things are better when you never learn about them.

That thought is too complex; truly, it simply means that Angie's view is far more preferred than her own. Optimistic, looking to ( _occasionally_ ) uplift others, whilst also managing to be scorn when she needs to be. Mikan wishes she could be more like that, more trustworthy and worthy of someone's time. More.. capable of standing up for herself.

( _Mikan sounds like Nagito. That's extremely concerning._ )

"H-hello, Yonaga-san.." The nurse manages to utter, if only because Angie's patient stare has yet to relent.

Her pupils are bloated and the brightness cloaking them feels surreal. It almost feels condescending; like the painter knows something that _nobody_ _else_ knows; but there's no need to question it. Not under these circumstances, where even the smallest fragment of information could get you _killed_.

Mikan studies Angie for a second—longer than she should. Angie doesn't look like she'd kill anyone.. not deliberately or with extensive planning, anyways. The latter seems to be above that, always praying for others and requesting that the very same fate wouldn't be bestowed upon anyone else.

Her prayers, as of right, haven't been answered. Four people are dead. Maybe they'll start working later into the killing game, when there's only a small group remaining. The thought is morbid, but it gives Mikan _some_ hope for the future.

If she lives to see said future, that is. She doubts herself. Someone probably wants her dead.

Angie sways to an nonexistent rhythm, fruitfully unaware of the nurse's thoughts. Either that, or she knows of the nurse's thoughts and is capable of ignoring them. When you're talking about the artist, you'll never be quite sure what the right answer is. Perhaps that's why so many people are put off by her, always straying away or ignoring her whenever she speaks.

On the topic of speaking..

"Oh, thank Atua! You're still with us—it would've been a shame if we lost you like _that!_ " The artist nudges her giddily, soon twirling around and looking toward the beach. There's a small amount of people gathered there, albeit for entirely different purposes; alas, most of them are laying in the sand, dormant.

There's not much else to do. Not when you're reflecting on.. things that are better left unsaid.

Angie's blue eyes shift right back to Mikan, a little less dilated than before. She bears a small smile, clasping her hands together. "We're not having a meeting today; everyone's been grieving over..."

She trails off, the glorified giddiness in her gaze fading in time with her smile. She blinks—once, twice—before her brow furrows.

( _Not a good sign._ )

The artist bites her tongue and goes quiet. As if she'd been removed from her body, from her _comfort zone—_ she looks to be catatonic, aside from the way she starts to tug at her fingers. Her movements are absentminded ones, ones that don't look as if she's in control of them.

It feels surreal, it _looks_ surreal. Angie never showed any signs of being this empathetic, to the point where she shut her mouth and went quiet. She loves talking, from what little Mikan knew about her, and even continued chattering moments after Mukuro's execution.

But this wasn't Mukuro. This was Kirumi, and everyone seems to love Kirumi. Loved.

Everyone _loved_ Kirumi.

Kirumi's departure only worsened the situation, created a constant tenseness in the atmosphere, especially since she'd been _publicly executed in front of them all._ Almost all of them, anyways; Mikan doesn't know what happened to the maid, what her corpse looked like after the execution was fulfilled, but she doesn't want to know. Asking is a bad idea.

She won't ask. Not in a million years.

Just as Mikan's about to question Angie's well-being, the latter perks right back up—her bloated pupils crackle with excitement, all as she locks arms with the timid nurse. The dullness had been scrubbed away in seconds, almost as if it'd never been there. However, Mikan is no fool, and knows that her eyes didn't betray her.

In any case, she'll never fully understand Angie and her motives. It'll definitely take time to get used to the things she does, and there _definitely_ isn't enough time here to do that. They'll escape together and get to know one another along the way. They can both afford to reveal some demons here and there, right?

That's how these things work. Friends always tell each other things that bother them.

( _... It's too hard to believe._ )

"You're gonna go check on Gonta, right?" When Mikan nods, Angie's eyes widen in what seems to be excitement. Was she excited that Mikan was leaving the 'comfort' of her cabin? The thought is extremely worrying concerning Angie's abstract behavior.

Instead, Angie shakes her a little and promptly begins to drag her off. Her feet are left to scrape against the wooden boards making up the boardwalk—not a nice sound, but it's definitely better than nails on a drywall. "Great! I had to show you something there, so this works out! Onward!"

.. That, too, is _very_ worrying. Alas, Mikan can't do anything about her anxious thoughts, which swarm her mercilessly. Either Angie doesn't notice, or she's ignoring her completely. Both options could be applicable to a wildcard like the artist, really, but Mikan doesn't want to assume things.

Assumptions are considered inconsiderate; nurses can't be inconsiderate.

* * *

 **｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**ANGIE YONAGA's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

The hospital isn't busy—a very fortunate thing, mind you, because Mikan doesn't need more patients. Not when Gonta's heart stops beating every hour or so; speaking of which, she should do another bout of chest compressions.

Mikan wishes she was exaggerating, but she's not. There's either something wrong with the entomologist's heart or it's just Monokuma's rancid machinery. Could definitely be both, but he'd probably be dead if that was the case. Going off of what Mikan learnt from her medical classes ( _what she could remember, she should say_ ), there's nothing serious going on with his heart.

Therefore, it's the machinery. To no surprise, it's Monokuma's fault—can't let anyone rest easy, even when they were unaware of their current condition. She can only hope that Gonta will wake up soon, preferably earlier than Mikan thinks. Three days feels way too long here.

If it can take less than an hour to murder someone, who knows what someone could do to him? He's completely helpless and it's not like Mikan can keep others away from him—people like Angie and Nagito and _so many others_ could murder her, too, and get away with it.

That's not a pleasant arsenal of things to think about. Try as she might, they never fade from her mind completely.

Mikan's gaze leaves Gonta for a moment, if only to focus on what Angie's doing; _see_ what she's doing, per say, because the latter had been silent for quite some time. After rambling about the thing she needed ( _more so wanted_ ) to show the nurse, one would expect her to.. well, _continue_ rambling. Alas, she was occupying herself with something else.

That 'something else' was a rather simple task; looking out the window and probing at the curtains that'd formerly cloaked it. She'd taken custody of the stool for the time being, swinging her legs back and forth like a toddler. The nurse couldn't see her face, but she assumes that she's looking at the beach again.

There's not much else to look at from _that_ window.

Angie cranes her head back and peers over at Mikan, who jolts and gets back to work—she administers another dose of vasopressin somewhat flimsily, hands shaking from anxiety. The usual, of course. The painter coos at the sight, but Mikan doesn't lift her head. "Are you sure he's gonna wake up?"

The nurse flinches, chancing a glance up at the other. Angie's head is tilted, eyes wide and whimsical—there's not a speck of sympathy or regret for the question she'd asked. Almost as if she hadn't blanked out when mentioning Kirumi's passing, as if she didn't care if _Gonta_ were to pass.

Mikan nips at the inside of her cheek, taking care to avoid tearing into the soft skin. Can't be tasting blood while she's trying to focus on keeping someone from suffering yet another flatline—oh, and can't forget keeping the administrations to an absolute minimum.

After all, it's entirely possible to _overdose_ on this stuff. If Mikan's not careful enough..

She pulls herself from her thoughts, smiling serenely at the artist. "I-I'm very sure, Yonaga-san," she replies with an added sweetness to her tone. It successfully hides the timidness swelling inside her lungs. "Aside from h-his flatline consistency, he's p-perfectly fine. It'll just t-take some time for him to wake up, that's a-all."

Angie doesn't look convinced in the slightest; it's difficult to pinpoint what she's not convinced on, be it Gonta's recovery or Mikan's faux tone. She doesn't do anything that insinuates any further questioning, however, much to the relief of a certain nurse. Alas, this doesn't mean Mikan'll be exempt from any _other_ types of questioning—

"Are you done?" The artist twists around on the stool, only to ultimately hop off after deeming it useless. For the time being, that is, because Mikan knows how people sit on the stool all the time. The view is a decent one. Nice, maybe, if you want to push it. "I still need to show you something! Gonta can wait another hour, right?"

Mikan freezes at that—she.. doesn't remember telling anyone about the rough estimate of when Gonta needs to be given his two doses. She stares blankly at her companion for the day, mouth flapping soundlessly. The slightly unsteady beeping of the heart monitor fills the ward with noise, keeping an awkward silence from overcoming them.

"H-how..?" Is all Mikan can muster, words soft and fragile, ready to shatter because _someone knows when Gonta's heart will stop beating._ That information could easily fall into the wrong hands; then what? What would someone do with that knowledge?

Bad things, horrible things.

Angie smiles, taking Mikan's hand and pulling her away from the unconscious male. And, all whilst ushering her out of the ward, she chirps out something that makes Mikan shudder—it doesn't help that she winks at her as soon as they're trotting through the hospital and entering another region of the building.

"Nyahaha! Why, Atua told me, darling!"

( _Having that information doesn't help, as expected._ )

It doesn't take the duo a long time to arrive at Angie's destination; it's a completely different ward, one barren and reeking of bleach. Among other chemicals, some of which are in sight. Alcohol, wet wipes, the things someone would usually store in a bathroom or a first-aid kit for safety reasons. There's a unraveled bundle of duct tape and bandages sitting on a window sill.

The latter of the two is stuck to the wall, either keeping the sill from crumbling or something completely different. On the other hand, the bandages have ( _obviously_ ) been used; more than once, at that, and that's somewhat worrying for a place as desolate as this. There are no curtains to hide the items, letting the sun's rays illuminate what little it could reach.

A bed, much like Gonta's, lay untouched adjacent to the window. An unusual place to put the bed, really, but Mikan wasn't about to question Monokuma's interior design. Having a peculiar look wasn't something a nurse should consider, not when there are working medical supplies in the vicinity. That's all that matters at the end of the day, Mikan notes, but she can't shrug off the _placement._

It doesn't look like the bed is untouched. In fact, it looks like there's _something_ laying in the bed _._ It's not moving—rather, _they're_ not moving—and look to be.. dead.

Mikan blanches, whereas Angie advances into the room without any qualms. If anything, Angie looks elated, swinging her arms left and right; she does a little twirl before standing beside the cloaked bed, waving Mikan over.

Mikan doesn't want to go over there.

( _Did Monokuma leave a corpse in the hospital?!)_

( _Did someone get murdered in the hospital, without Mikan knowing at_ _that?!_ )

( _Why was Angie showing her this, did she do it—_)

A complex expression crosses Angie's face—it's hard to read, hard to know what it _implies_ —before she cups her mouth with her hands. "Hey, _hey_ ," she calls out, voice whisper-like and gentle, as if she's afraid to wake the entity under the sheets up. Assuming they aren't dead, of course. "C'mon, I promised to get you here, darling! I can't disappoint a friend!"

Promised? Friend? 

_Is that supposed to calm her down?!_

That is implying bad things that Mikan doesn't want to be part of. Bad, bad things that're bad and horrible and _bad._ Nothing about this situation is good, especially since there's _probably_ a dead body under that white blanket and Angie's _probably_ waiting to clock her in the back of her head.

However, she trusts Angie.. to the extent that she knows she wouldn't do that. Not here, not when it would be blindingly obvious that she's the only one who could carry out the crime. Not that Angie would kill her, surely, because the artist doesn't want to kill anyone. Sure, she.. implies it.. often whenever someone calls her out on her intolerable behavior, but she'd always be a culprit.

For as long as you're known as a culprit, you'll never want to be a murderer. You'll never want to hurt anyone, because you've already been through death and won't relive it. Then again, it's not like Mikan would know what Angie's done in _her_ killing game.

Gonta didn't seem to be fond of her. The nurse wonders why.

After taking a deep breath, Mikan follows Angie's instructions—she stands by the latter's side, staring intently at the cloaked bed. It reeks of bleach, somehow, and she can detect the faintest scent of must oozing from it. A very, _very_ faint scent, but she's close enough to smell it.

Neither of the smells are good. One burns her nose whereas the other enters her mouth and tastes rancid. Perhaps she should've requested to pick up her mask—the plague doctor mask wouldn't do her any good in a situation like this, not if there's a corpse under there.

The scents clash with one another, resulting in the locale _reeking_. Mikan doesn't know how to describe the smell, but it doesn't smell like a rotting corpse. If anything, it smells like a _living_ corpse, which is significantly worse than an actual corpse.

That simply means someone's trying to make it smell like it's alive. The concept alone makes the nurse's skin crawl; she can only hope that that's not the case, not in any way, shape nor form.

Who knows what'd happen to her head if she saw something like that.

Angie peers over, studying the other Ultimate for a prolonged period of time before grabbing the edge of the blanket. "You can have two patients at a time, right?"

She doesn't wait for an answer. Oh, but Mikan wishes that the other would've just _waited—_ she's unprepared to see whatever's lying beneath the blanket, whatever's making the room smell like _bleach and sweat._

The blanket is pulled away with a surprising amount of gentleness; not only that, but it isn't pulled off _completely_ , but the sight is enough for Mikan to flinch away and bite her tongue. It's all she can do to swallow down the scream of complete and utter surprise that overtakes her at the person residing under the sheet, not to mention the state of their body.

There, laying on the bed as if he's unconscious, is Nagito Komaeda. He twitches a little at the loss of warmth, eyes fluttering open as he groggily accesses the situation; as soon as he notices Mikan, his gaze hardens and he begins to burrow into the mattress. Almost as if he's a mole or something along those lines.

Do moles burrow? She can't remember; if she ever brings herself to face her fears, maybe she'll get around to asking Gundham about it. That is, if his feathered companions don't deter her with their loud noises.

(.. _She probably won't get around to asking._ )

"Nagito, get up!" Angie leans over the male, dropping her hands onto the male's shoulders. Within seconds, she begins shaking him like a rattle, making the bed creak and squeal with every rock. "Mikan's a nurse, she can fix all your wounds!"

Nagito isn't easily swayed, it would seem, because he refuses to open his eyes—if anything, the shaking makes him _clench_ them shut, brows furrowed and nose scrunched up as he pulls a tight-lipped expression. He looks pained, almost, but Mikan can't be sure.

"I don't want treatment from a _remnant,_ " he spits, "I'd rather die, Yonaga-san!"

Mikan swallows a wince. She knew Nagito didn't.. like.. anyone from their killing game, but it still hurts to be called a 'remnant'. She doesn't even know what that _is!_

Angie stops shaking him, although she keeps her hands on his shoulders at all times. Either to keep him from burying himself in the mattress again or she's just ready to rattle him; both options look and sound like something the artist would do. She purses her lips before turning to Mikan, quirking a brow.

"Remnant?" She questions, and Nagito bristles under her hands. "I dunno what you're talking about, Nagito. Mikan's a nurse, last time I checked!"

He shifts slightly, one eye barely visible as he looks over his shoulder. His expression is a weary one, one that makes it look like he was a victim of miscommunication or something along those lines. Other than his eyes being far duller than the nurse remembered, there were dark circles beneath them; ah, this is what Angie meant by 'another patient'.

It was rather obvious, yes, but Nagito was injured. He'd definitely need to stay in the hospital for awhile, even if he spewed insults at Mikan as she worked ( _or tried to_ ) with him. Nothing new—she can take more than just a few blows to her self-esteem. For as long as he doesn't touch her, she'll be fine.

"Some _nurse_ she is," Nagito hisses. "How am I supposed to trust a nurse who murders her patients, Yonaga-san? If I trust her, she'll just slaughter me—I refuse to accept 'help' from someone who goes against hope and everything it stands for!"

Mikan squints a little at that. Nobody ever followed Nagito's hope ramblings, but that seemed to spawn the entire issue; the issue of her and many others being seen as 'remnants'. It was a little silly, if you asked her, but she wouldn't say that aloud. Not when she was _very_ sure that Nagito was suffering. He needed both rest and medical attention, if those scars beneath his tight, _tight_ bandages had anything to say.

There's still dried blood cloaking it. The sight nearly forces a retch out of Mikan, but she steadies herself before it can come to that. Don't want to vomit next to ( _or worse: on_ ) a patient, especially if they're already showing signs of despising you as a whole.

Fortunately for Mikan, her blue-eyed companion is indifferent to the male's nonsensical mantra. Rather than reply, she moves her hands to rest on her hips, keeping her lips pursed. "I don't believe that—Mikan's taking care of Gonta right now; she's the only thing keeping him alive right now!"

To Mikan's surprise, _that_ comment is what gets Nagito's attention; he shuts his mouth immediately, resulting in his teeth clanking together rather loudly. He then clenches his jaw, huffing out a wince whilst clenching his fists. He _definitely_ needs medical attention, as soon as possible, but the nurse won't rush the process.

She needs him to trust her first and foremost. They'll work from there, if Nagito lets her. Luckily ( _as ironic as the usage of the word is_ ), Angie is extremely good when it comes to convincing people. To some extent, that is, but Mikan won't doubt her skills. After all, she appears to be quite skilled in the arts of manipulation, especially when it comes to making others do something that works in her favor.

Not to say that Angie's done it frequently or anything—Mikan's heard some things get passed around, that's all.

Speaking of which, said painter leans forward and regards the newest patient with a slight sneer. Nothing too serious, seeing as there's a sense of playfulness in her actions ( _maybe she befriended Nagito—not a reassuring thought_ ). Doesn't deter her from flicking his forehead and puffing out her cheeks like a child. "You didn't know? He literally passed out!"

When Nagito doesn't say anything, Angie continues, "she went _with_ him! Mikan wasn't there for the remainder of the trial, Nagito!" She genuinely sounds disappointed, as if she'd been expecting Nagito to pay attention to everything that'd been going on. Then again, it was a bit harder than usual to focus with the recent deaths and whatnot.

( _Mikan is giving the lucky student the benefit of a doubt._ )

( _She can focus on her work, even when Ibuki, Tenko and Kirumi are dead; she cannot say the same for Nagito._ )

The lucky student stares, gaze flicking between the two women. He then seethes out yet another wince, curling in on himself and pointedly avoiding their respective gazes. He looks embarrassed, almost, as if he'd just realized the fault in his judgement. Definitely an out-of-character moment; oh, that means he's finding his personality!

That's always good, even if 'these' emotions were given to them by Monokuma; their free-range and malleable emotions, that is. It's weird to feel something other than contempt, timidness and naivety for once, Mikan must admit, but it's a breath of fresh air overall.

Now, if only Nagito can properly adjust to the change. Just enough to cooperate with her for a little while, seeing as his injury wasn't as life-threatening as Gonta's layered internal damage.

Gray-green eyes sweep over the surrounding area once more. There's a timidness to them; figures, Mikan'd been thinking about the emotion mere seconds ago. He then turns his body away from the two, pulling his knees to his chest and shuddering. ".. Oh."

Angie makes a face at that, seemingly ready to turn him back over and make him talk. However, there's no need for that, concerning the fact that he definitely needs some rest and is, to a minimal extent, putting his trust in Mikan. All she has to do is prove that she won't let him get hurt, won't fail him like she failed a sick Ibuki.

There will be no repeats. Not if she can help it; and believe her, she is far more capable than she was before. She knows that for a fact, although she'd never utter it aloud. That'd only make it dull and unimportant, and she can't have that. Those words _need_ to be important.

For her sake. For _everyone's_ sake.

Mikan doesn't want to bother the male any further, having seen the grossly colored swelling beneath his lower jaw, so she takes Angie's shoulder and shakes her head. If any more words were forced out of him, the injury would probably worsen. Constantly moving and shifting your mouth when it's in such a sorry state.. she'd need to have a long, extensive talk to Nekomaru on controlling himself.

Besides, the coach would've never done this if Monokuma hadn't given them their free-range of emotions. Nekomaru would've been docile and patient, albeit loud and boisterous as per usual. He wouldn't turn on Nagito and leave him like this, that wasn't the coach she got acquainted with.

It's almost as if she needs to spend time getting to know everyone all over again.. what a horrible fate.

"L-let's leave him alone for a bit, o-okay?" The nurse waits for Angie to agree—when the latter does, she simply smiles and begins to pull her out of the ward. She can see the bed shift a little, but Nagito remains put otherwise. If anything, it's like he falls asleep again ( _assuming he was sleeping in the first place_ ). Good. That's good.

He needs to sleep. She'll work with him whenever she doesn't need to tend to Gonta's hourly needs. Speaking of which, an hour nearly past due to how long Angie took explaining and deconstructing the entirety of Mikan's 'innocence' to the bruised and battered male. He'll need a bandage change, most definitely, maybe she'll wash the clothing and give him one of the patient 'uniforms'..

Mikan glances over at Gonta, who remains still yet living on his bed. Aside from the occasional rise and fall of his chest, accompanied by the twitching of his eyelids and brows, he's completely still and corpse-like. She gets to work on preparing a syringe, purposefully leaving certain cabinets and drawers open for future use.

( _Read: medical supplies to move to Nagito's barren ward_.)

Angie settles on the stool once more; just like Mikan thought she would. Nobody stands around for long, always wanting to settle down somewhere and properly collect themselves. Mikan can't blame them. After all, she does the very same thing, swinging her legs back and forth while she waits for the next hour on the clock. The imaginary clock, that is, because Monokuma didn't put clocks anywhere.

The only way they could tell time was from asking either the bear or the local anthropologist. The latter was preferred; Korekiyo's a far better time-teller than Monokuma, who'll give a vague answer after taking some of your money. Everyone knew it was just as bad as a scam, if not the definition of one in the first place. A mess, truly.

Mikan thinks she wants to strangle the bear. It would explain how her fingers arch about, nearly making her mess up the second shot of vasopressin.

The bearer of the blue-eyes watching her says nothing for a long while. Then Angie turns to look out the window again, squinting at the sun's rays that pour down on the beach. People are still gathered there, tumbling over one another and quite a few of them buried in the sand. She leans on her hand, eyes lidded.

"Promise me you'll take care of him, alright?" She begins, using her free-hand to tamper with the edge of her sunhat. It blocks out a good majority of the light, fortunately, protecting her from blindness. "He sounds _real_ wonky.. I just hope he won't hurt himself here, y'know?"

Mikan nods, doing the umpteenth chest compression before checking the heart monitor for the second time that morning. When she's sure everything's in working order, she steps away and gets to work on filtering the IV. Just to make sure nothing's out of place, that is; can't ease too much blood into the body, not when it needs various nutrients.

Water is one of them, so Mikan gets to work on supplying Gonta with that. All while Angie fiddles with the stems of her sunglasses, which rest on her forehead. They slide down hastily, only to be caught and moved back to the previous place atop her dome. The sun is still obnoxiously bright, bright enough to showcase the dust particles floating about.

Pretty. Just a little.

The painter fixes her sunhat before letting her sunglasses fall; they nearly go down too much, but she pushes them against the slope of her nose and turns to Mikan. Just as the latter finishes her task, she strikes: "Tell me about the whole remnant thing!" She practically demands, pointing at the woman.

Mikan has half the mind to get her to ask her God; the one that appears to know everything and everyone, as dangerous and ominous as it is; but refrains. Even so, Angie clasps her hands above her head and arches to the side, nearly toppling the stool over with the alternation in weight. "Atua doesn't have the time to answer all of my questions, you should know this!"

Mikan swallows down the questions bubbling in her throat, instead deciding to crouch beside Gonta's bedside. She squeezes her hands before smiling warily and sheepishly at the other, who patiently waits whilst arched to the side. Golly, she must be pretty flexible if she's capable of holding that pose for that long—more than just a bit impressive, she must give credit where it's due.

Now, the remnant situation.. since asking Nagito is out of the question, primarily due to his current physical and mental state, the nurse is left to her own devices. How fun, how wondrous. She claps her hands together and decides to steel her nerves and draw it from the beginning.

What she _thinks_ is the beginning, anyways.

"A-ah, give me a moment. W-wait, don't rock on the s-stool, please—!"

"Sorry! Jittery from excitement, darling, nyahahaha!"

( _What a hassle.._ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter Three: A Good Day To Die - BEGIN**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 21**

**Angie Yonaga's Report Card Update:**

_Although she's rather.. abstract when it comes down to it, Angie's good company. Sure, she may be overly ecstatic at times and can overstep boundaries, but it works with a feeble personality. Other than that, she brought in another patient (sincerest thanks for that) and seems to want to spend time with Mikan. How quaint. There are definitely better things to be doing..._


	17. A Good Day To Die (Daily Life II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone's health is (somewhat) supervised.

Mikan is surprised that she's not exhausted by the time she draws her conclusion. It'd been a long-winded talk, mostly because of Angie's piling mountain of questions that needed to be dissected down to every individual atom. Fortunately, Mikan's a very patient woman, and managed to get through the questioning without too much hassle.

Barely, that is. Accomplishing a feat such as that doesn't come without its many, many flaws in judgement; one of which including the patient that never stirs. Very worrying, yes, but the heart monitor keeps everything clear. Sometimes.

Things don't always go smoothly. There are too many things to take into account when it comes to keeping the male's heart from collapsing right then and there.

Talking to another living, conscious entity doesn't mean Gonta's heart will magically fix itself, nor will the machines stop malfunctioning at random intervals. Too much to take into account, far too much. So much, in fact, that Mikan needs to take a break before she can move on to checking on Nagito.

( _She was so engulfed in the vasopressin that she'd forgotten about him.._ )

( _What a horrible nurse, outright neglecting her patients like that!_)

Before checking on the lucky student, she chose to crack her knuckles, hissing softly at the stinging sensation caused by the burns. They were a little more than a major inconvenience, always sending uncomfortable jolts through her body whenever irritated. Even the smallest stretches made her wish she'd never gotten out of bed in the first place.

A small croak erupts from the frog box adjacent to Gonta's bed. Jelly is awake, but not in need of any care. Good, good; she needed to head to the MonoMono Machine later on to get something for the frog to snack on. Not now, but later.

Hesitantly, Mikan clenches her fist—she regrets it nearly immediately, simply due to how the burn feels as if it's gradually _worsening_ with every twitch of her fingers. Luck was definitely on her side for the time being; in the context of the burn not interfering with her line of work, that is. Who knows when it'd come back to slap her across the face and then some.

Soon, most likely. Good things never seem to stick with Mikan, as unfortunate as it sounds. For both her and those she happens to operate on. Regardless, the burn marks aren't going away anytime soon and aren't reacting nicely to being tampered with.. but she'd be damned if she didn't try to clean them. It's the sanitary thing to do, albeit the fear of screaming is still kept in mind.

Angie swings her legs about—back and forth, left and right, rinse and repeat—whilst watching from the stool. While she'd been a great help by keeping her hands and spiritual spouting to herself, she was still rather talkative. That being said, it shouldn't have startled the nurse when she talked in that loud-ish, bubbly voice of hers.

It really shouldn't have, but here we are.

"There's a troubled aura about you, darling," she chimes, cupping her hands around her mouth. Mikan visibly flinches away at the loudness, but Angie persists as if nothing had caught the latter off guard in the first place. A blessing and a curse, truly. "Let it out! Tell me what's troubling you; I'm sure I'll be able to aid you."

Mikan looks off to the side, biting the inside of her cheek. While she does enjoy Angie's company and the way she's been looking out for her—the artist was always peering out the window, telling the nurse who was walking about—it's not polite to burden someone else with your troubles. Not when it's something as insignificant as some resurrection scars.

However, the droopy-eyed woman's mouth betrays her thoughts. How incredibly unfortunate, not to mention pathetic; she can't even control _herself_ , what an absolute mess of a human being. "J-just some burns, t-that's all."

Angie stares for a prolonged period of time, pulling a tight-lipped expression. Her gaze flicks down to the nurse's concealed arm, all before she makes a small noise of understanding. Afterwards, she probes at her neck and smiles warmly at Mikan; there's enough warmth to dispel the idea of burdening her.

"Oh, you have post-death scars, too?"

Angie doesn't wait for an answer, instead craning her head to the side with a strained hum. A nasty gnash takes up the majority of the backside of her neck, small scabs indicating that the cause of the scars went _through._ There are faint signs that the scar had been scraped at, unsheathed from its bloody cage. It's grotesque, even for someone who'd seen many corpses before.

An unorthodox amount of corpses, at that. Nobody should have to see that many corpses—it's not good for your mental health, Mikan knows this much. Experience, she calls it, but it's.. more akin to trauma. Torture, perhaps.

( _Torture. There should be another way to say that—sounds unprofessional and.. attention-seeking._)

"You ever notice how my voice gets real soft? My throat's messed up, from what Atua's told me!"

The artist drags a finger along her throat slowly, tracing the outline of the more visible wounds. Some the scabs look like they were freshly picked at; Mikan stifles a wince at the thought of scratching open a scar on one's neck, hovering a hand over her nape in a futile attempt to dull a nonexistent pain. Even if the pain was there, there's nothing she would be able to do to stop it.

Scabs, while helpful, were the bane of everyone's existence. Not the biggest bane under these circumstances, surely, but a bane nonetheless. 

"There's one on the back of my head, too!" Angie is all too bubbly as she turns around, facing the window whilst grappling onto the underside of the stool's base. She reaches up and snags her sunhat right off her head, leaving her braids to flop about a little at the sudden movement. "I can't see it, but Atua told me about it! I can _feel_ it!"

While it is definitely hard to locate said scar, fragments of a downright _disgusting_ bruise are evident beneath the ends of her hairline. They're a mixture of dark purple and black, swelling ever-so-slightly. Mikan doesn't want to touch it, not in the slightest, but she knows how to lessen the pain. Perhaps that's why she never saw Angie rock her head around all the time, as one would expect from someone with her level of.. personality, per say.

Apart from the occasional head tilts, she typically turned with her entire body. It was a miracle to even _have_ the ability to tilt your head with such horrendous injuries—and she'd just been placing a sunhat over all of it and walking about, all willy-nilly? Worry, extremely worrying that she just didn't _care._

Mikan blinked a couple of times before letting out a small, hesitant noise. "D-does.. it hurt?"

Angie smiled wider, dimples evident on her features. She flashes the whites of her teeth, seemingly seething out a giggle. A pitiful attempt at one, at that; then, without batting an eye, she chooses to avoid giving a clear answer.

"You shouldn't have to task yourself with worrying about me, Mikan!" She waves the nurse off nonchalantly, swinging her legs back and forth.

The words that escape the artist fail to reach Mikan's ears—rather, said words prompt even more worrisome thoughts. Angie was in pain, wasn't she? bad, horrible, completely rancid to hear from someone who was just wandering around, chatting as if her head wasn't minutes away from being split open like an egg.

There are three patients. One is in a unending loop of faux-death; one is starved and suffering; one is sustaining gruesome injuries and is _nonchalant about the severity of every last one of them._

Mikan'd have to change her schedule because of this. There's no way she can let Angie—or anyone else, for that matter!—wander around with such life-threatening wounds. Concerning the fact that she was, and still is the Ultimate Nurse ( _although she'd prefer to be dead, like many others on this forsaken island.._ ), it was just completely unethical to let them stay untreated.

.. And that swelling didn't look healthy. It looked like the bruises were ready to spit out mountains of puss at any given moment. They wouldn't, most definitely, but the thought was enough to make the nurse undergo a full body shudder.

The object of her worries fiddles with her straw hat some, soon deciding to place it back atop her noggin. Her carefree nature is incredibly concerning to bear witness to. It's almost as if her neck isn't cloaked in nasty scabs from past impalement; almost as if the back of her head looks like a swollen eggplant if you looked too long.

( _Why is she okay with this? She.. she must be in great pain, Mikan needs to treat it somehow—_ )

Angie swings her head around—she stops abruptly to place a hand on the back of her neck, baring her teeth to stomach a seethe. She then smiles childishly, feigning ignorance to her physical trauma. Not healthy, the opposite of healthy. How could she just sit there and pretend like it was okay? Was it to appease Atua? No, no, certainly not. Angie.. she wasn't fixated on her God and putting Him above herself, surely not.

The word vomit in her brain is muddled, but vaguely reminds her of what she'd said to justify a past lover's neglect. Not a past lover, just.. a past. There was no love, was there? Most likely not, but she couldn't come to terms with that. Not now, not when she was processing so many other things.

Kirumi's death still weighed heavy on her shoulders, as did the respective states of the locale's current occupants; Angie included, for extremely obvious reasons, even if she wasn't laying down in her own little hospital bed like the other two—

"You should go check on Nagito."

Ah, there goes her train of thought; vanished and thrown to the wind, like a simple spec of dust. Mikan opens her mouth to argue, but Angie interjects before she can sputter out the first syllable. "After that, you can get some fresh air! You've been working for hours and hours—take a little break! I'll watch over the hospital while you're gone, I promise!"

There's little to no room for an argument to take place. Even then, Mikan is feeble. Those who are feeble do not possess the urge to retort, for they simply cannot—it's not in her nature, and it wouldn't be for a long, long time. She wasn't comfortable enough, she wasn't _confident_ enough.

Mikan is feeble. Those who are feeble cannot speak out against others, no matter how much they want to. One day, she'll be able to treat Angie's wounds and tell her how severe they are, how they'll harm her in the near future. But, until that day comes, she'll remain compliant and silent. As she'd been taught to do for most of her life.

So, with a heavy guilt weighing down on her consciousness, Mikan bows her head and backs out of the ward. Gonta doesn't flatline, he'd already done that a few minutes ago, and Angie remains dormant. She turns her head, slowly, with the carefulness of someone who _doesn't want to get hurt_ , and smiles serenely. There is a pain hidden behind those shining eyes, one hidden by a translucent blue veil.

Looking at her hurts. It's painful to know when someone else is in pain, more so when you can't do anything about it. Too feeble, too weak to do anything about it.

"See you later!" Angie waves giddily, but stops short halfway into the movement—she'd shifted her head a little to the side, most likely prompting a jolt of pain to congregate in her neck. She bears her teeth once more, not able to stop the loud seethe that slips through the cracks of her teeth.

Mikan leaves before either of them can do anything drastic.

* * *

Nagito's ward is still barren, aside from an added painting hanging above some medical equipment. The pained painter in the ward adjacent to this one made it, stating that the place needed a splash of color. A futile attempt at making things more colorful, really, but the painting was nice. Nothing less was expected of the Ultimate Artist, even when she had limited supplies.

Then again, her form of 'limited' was.. concerning. How many brushes can one painter have, anyways?

(. _._ _Would it be seen as inconsiderate to ask that?_ )

The thin blanket cloaking the lucky student's bed shudders. The movement is enough to pull Mikan from her thoughts, to properly ground herself and remember why she entered the locale in the first place. If she wasn't a nurse, she would've left him to his own devices—alas, she felt condemned to take care of him, even when he treated her like a complete stranger.

For a fleeting moment, Mikan remembers when Nagito chided Hinata for being 'rude to her.' A shame for those days to have gone, back when they were under the illusion that nothing bad was happening on the island. She remembers Monokuma making a fool out of Monomi, if only vaguely—it's all foggy, unfortunately. On the more fortunate side, however, it's not like she _wants_ to remember most of that stuff.

People like Nagito, on the other hand.. well, their memories are exceedingly better than her's, that's for sure. For the better or the worse, judging off of how paranoid most had become. No, everyone on this island is ( _and was, presumably_ ) paranoid, that was a fact. Death was just lurking around every corner nowadays.

A shuffling hails from Nagito's resting place once more, the bed hissing from the movement. A small, white strand peeks from beneath the cover; soon followed by the shadowy outline of his face. Even with most of his features hidden, he looks annoyed.

Mikan was a nuisance to him, in any case. He wasn't really trying to hide it—twas common knowledge at this point.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" Nagito grouses from beneath his sheets, shuffling a little to properly situate himself.

His voice is slurred to some extent, not to mention the slight rasp—oh, she should've checked up on him earlier. He was in need of nourishment, most definitely, as he hadn't left his resting place since Mikan last checked up on him. Had it already been an hour..?

The lucky student in question snarls—or, at the very least, makes a sound that's terrifyingly akin to said noise. The nurse can see his grayed-out pupils, dilated and drained of energy. Yet, against all odds, he still manages to glare at her like she's forsaken him for the last time. And, in a way, Mikan believes that she deserves this treatment. She forgot to feed him, she forgot to _check up on him as soon as possible_.

An imperfect mess, this is. What type of nurse forgets to make sure her patients are in tiptop shape? A bad one, a horrible one that doesn't deserve to be called the 'Ultimate Nurse', for sure—

Nagito groans, less from discomfort and more from annoyance. The rest of his head emerges from the thin blanket that'd barely cloaked his lanky figure, dark bags evident beneath his eyes and a mean look on his face. "If you're the Ultimate Nurse, then why're you just standing around? Are you enjoying my pain or something?"

It's quiet for a long, long time—Nagito stares at her expectantly, whereas the nurse's words are caught in her throat. She can't speak, not when he was impatient and would, without a doubt continue to chide her if she replied. Not only that, but she was on the verge of apologizing; she was trying her best to avoid doing that, to say something that was worthwhile, but it wasn't looking too good for her right about now.

( _A part of her prays for her patient to be nicer.._ )

The male rubs at his eyes, rolls over and grouses. His slim fingers grasp the cover and pull it over his shoulder once more. He shudders again. "What was I expecting from a Remnant? She's probably just here to end my worthless life; then she'll fill everyone with _hope_ and dampen it all with her _despairing_ lies.."

( _.. She expects too much from someone who hates her._ )

The nurse in question gnaws at her bottom lip, nearly tearing at the skin residing there. Instead, she gathers her wits and heads straight for the medical supplies; he'll need to be properly stabilized before she has to resort to feeding him.. well, that's assuming he can't walk around on his own and get the needed food, which was most likely the case in this scenario.

.. Or he was deliberately starving himself and stirring his own little pot of conflict. Mikan wouldn't put it past someone like him.

"Oh, are you gonna stab me?" He twists around, a mocking undertone to his voice. When the nurse spares a glance in his direction, she notes the look of comedic malice on his face before going back to looking for the needed stabilizers. "Maybe slit my filthy throat open to keep me quiet? Oh, you'd _love_ that, wouldn't you? You'd all love to see me _dead on a hospital bed—_ "

Fortunately for the ( _bad_ ) caretaker, it was surprisingly easy to block out Nagito's mindless rambling. While her memory was definitely foggy and not the best, she did recall having to do that _many_ times before this resurrection event. He rambled far too much, she thinks, and that trait doesn't seem to have changed. It does feel like he's gotten significantly more suicidal and deprecating with his words, though.

There's no helping that, Mikan supposes. If she was hogtied and deprived of food for several days, she'd be feeling like a dumpster fire, too. She inspects the vacant shelves listlessly, occasionally tuning into what Nagito's still going on about: something about revealing the Remnants, getting himself murdered and whatnot.

Y'know, what he always rambles about. Nothing too out of the blue, even if the nurse is especially concerned for his fractured mental health. He'll probably need a good, healthy dose of therapy with Gonta. Would definitely give the latter another person to talk to, not to mention that Nagito seemed to be naturally drawn to the entomologist. Yes, yes, that'd work well.

.. Hopefully. Nagito's nature could dampen Gonta's mental state, prompting him to submerge himself in bad habits again. Mikan was the Ultimate Nurse, but even that was too much for her to handle.

After a moment of thought and consideration—not to mention the numerous amount of empty drawers she went through—she decides that Zinc is good enough. For now, at least, because Nagito hadn't been starving himself from day one like Gonta had. That, and the lucky student hadn't spilled his guts on the floor of the lunchroom twice and then some.

( _Ah, didn't Kirumi tell Gonta to feed Nagito that one time..?_ )

The thought perishes quickly, but leaves a rancid aftertaste as a reminder of its existence. Not that Mikan would need to be reminded of such a horrible, _horrible_ thought when the event had taken place the day prior. Fortunately, she drags herself away from the dark-dwelling thought process that was revolving around Kirumi's untimely demise, instead refocusing on the task at hand.

Nagito's just staring at her now, grinning a little. He knows little to nothing about medical supplies, she knows that much, and probably thinks she'll shovel the medicine down his throat and make him choke or something. Maybe he thinks she'll coax him into overdosing to avoid execution.

None of that would happen.

Mikan doesn't want to have a repeat of Ibuki and Hiyoko's respective deaths. She doesn't think she'll be able to handle the burden of having another's blood underneath her nails for the _third_ time. It was hard enough to scrub it from her memory, but from beneath her nails? Near impossible, and it didn't help that she _knew_ a lot of people here believed she was a victim.

Only those who've lived longer than her during the first time around knew of her misdeeds. With the way this is going, a lot of things are going to go uncovered. Perhaps it's better that way, not knowing anything whilst knowing everything at the same time.

Knowledge is not power in this place. It is but an early demise in a place where lies are preferred over the truth. The truth stings like an infected wound, maybe a wasp sting to the neck. A throbbing pain in one's spine that constricts around the muscle tissues and tears into them.

A problem. The truth is a problem, and it shouldn't be.

Mikan stares at the bottle of pills in her hand. She'd only have to give him one or two, then she'd be able to quickly move to giving him some glucose-mixed water. Seeing as he wasn't in Gonta's shoes, he'd have a quicker recovery. That is, if he was willing to cooperate and actually allow Mikan to fix his symptoms. If not, then it was likely that he'd be reduced to a catatonic state like the entomologist..

And he'd flatline. Having to constantly go between two constantly 'dying' patients was not ideal, especially with a time restriction like Gonta's. An hour each, for both of them, and she could easily slip up and have one of the perish because she was too slow or too clumsy.

She doesn't want another person's blood under her nails. Metaphorical or not, death was death and the blood that stained her consciousness wouldn't leave. Just like the blood that'd congregate beneath her nails, settling and reminding her of what she did.

Ironically, the nurse wouldn't be able to live with herself if someone else died because of her. _Especially_ if someone died because she was being a stupid little klutz all over again. That'd just ruin everything, _she'd ruin everything, like she always does._

Nagito cocks his head, smile stretching impossibly wider. It looks painful, almost, but Mikan recalls seeing Angie pull the same expression. There's an underlying pain to it, one that's hidden under far more negative and compulsive emotions.

However, none of those emotions stop him from being an asshole.

"I didn't know your stuttering made you less vigilant!" He rasps out a weak, strained and throaty laugh. "And I wouldn't even tell you if someone was creeping up on you, brandishing a knife to stab you right in the—!"

"Will you _shut up?!_ " Mikan snaps, nearly popping open the pill with how hard she'd been squeezing it. For a second, she sees red, and feels it seeping into her mouth when she bites at her tongue. She holds it there, keeping the red from spilling out and oozing onto the floor right then and there.

There's so much red; it swirls around her mouth like mouthwash, stinging and _burning_ her for getting upset. You're not supposed to snap at your patients, they're already suffering enough because they're in a _hospital. Why on Earth would you try to worsen that suffering, even if they get on your nerves?_

( _There are answers to that answer, but Mikan can't comprehend them._ )

In an attempt to keep the red; the negative things she wants to say; from spilling out, she bows her head and squeaks. She chokes on an apology, both attempting to swallow down any other words of anger and the fact that she doesn't _want_ to apologize. She's just forcing herself to do things she can't do, that she doesn't want to do, all because she cares about the expense of others.

Mikan has no self-worth. She knows this, and doesn't change it.

( _She swallows the red. It is foul, even if it does not exist physically._ )

When she rises from her bowed position, she's more than unpleasantly surprised by Nagito's blank expression. His mouth is shut, sure, but his _expression_ —so blank, lacking the underlying tact that'd been exhibited when he was being malicious toward his temporary caretaker.

There is an aura of reluctance and fear shrouding Nagito. It betrays him, telling the nurse all she needs to know about how his emotions are congregating as of right. There's definitely some trauma here and there, but everyone here has their respective trauma; the killing game was a rather scarring event, alongside any negative interactions they could've undergone with both Monokuma and the other students.

His eyes, strangely enough, remain the same—which is still rather concerning, given the contrasting quantities of emotion within them and his overall aura. Talk therapy was a must with her current patients, it would seem, as much of a hassle it'd be given their respective personalities.

Nagito is manic, unpredictable and very capable of getting on Mikan's last nerve; Gonta would be apathetic and only mildly interested in consumption of edibles upon waking; Finally, there's Angie.

Mikan doesn't know what's wrong with Angie, but there's _something_ wrong with her.

The former of the mentioned three stirs slightly, fingers twitching atop the sheets covering his body. Mikan is quick to reel away from her thoughts and pops open the bottle urgently, spilling a handful of pills into her gloved palm. Then she places the bottle down and drops only two of the pills into Nagito's hand.

He looks hesitant for a long moment; that's what his body language says, judging by his shivering and the overall reluctance to actually consume the pills. The nurse stands by his side through it all, though. She's rather sure that there are some people who would willingly pretend to take their medicine and then proceed to continue neglecting themselves.

Nobody on this deceitful island ( _with the exception of herself, for a nurse's duty must be upheld at all costs_ ) can afford to do that. Not when someone could and would take advantage of that moment of vulnerability.

Perhaps that's why Mikan was so terrified of Angie. She still is, to some unknown extent; she's afraid of everyone.

Just like always. Nothing has changed.

She is feeble.

Mikan's face crumbles for a hot second and Nagito makes a low noise of discomfort, soon followed by a loud _crunch_. The nurse blinks herself back into reality once again, noting how the seated male's face was scrunched up. His brows furrow, arching downwards further and further before his eyes are forced to close.

Ah. He didn't need the Zinc supplement ( _not to mention that those are supposed to be taken an hour or two AFTER a meal_ ), judging by how he'd reacted to it. Seemed awfully sour, or maybe just plain _bad_ judging by his expression.

Nagito sticks his tongue out and attempts to spit out what was left of the crunched up pill—Mikan plucks a tissue from a nearby stand and puts it to his mouth, waiting until he lurches forward with what sounds like a mixture of a sneeze and a hack. There is an unsettling and disgusting wetness that can be felt through the tissue; thankfully, she's wearing gloves.

She draws the tissue away from his mouth when his pupils flick up to her face. A thin line of mucus follows, but it quickly severed when she tosses the wad into a trashcan. Once again, she retrieves another tissue and gets to work on cleaning off his face. Nagito simply glances over at the other pill lying in his palm, dormant yet oddly menacing given his first reaction.

"Y-you don't need to eat that one," Mikan reassures him ( _and herself_ ) _._ She finishes cleaning off his mouth and crumbles the tissue up without much hassle. Nagito's shoulders slouch a little, but nothing else happens. Nothing noteworthy, given the patient's continued silence and the second wad of tissue being discarded like the first one.

Mikan clears her throat, standing up straight as she plucks the pill from Nagito's upturned hand and throws it away. That doesn't stop him from continuing to stare at it, almost as if he's in a trance of some sort. She wouldn't blame him if that was the case—when you take a Zinc supplement when your body doesn't need it, it usually reacts negatively and just tastes metallic.

"S-seeing as you don't need the Zinc s-supplement," Mikan snaps her fingers in an attempt to get his attention. He continues to look down at his hand; it was a bust trying to get him to stop staring off, but at least he wasn't mocking her anymore. "I'll come by again with some f-food for you to eat. Is there anything.. specific that y-you want?"

".. Why don't I feel different?" Nagito inquires instead of answering—a common thing for someone like him, Mikan things, replying to a question with a question. His fingers twitch a little more, all before his eyes peel away from them and focus on the white-themed nurse before him.

Mikan waits for Nagito to explain what he could possibly mean, and vice versa.

She says nothing and he says nothing. Neither of them speak. The silence, however, speaks thousands upon thousands of words that unite together in a clumpy mess; an _incomprehensible_ _mess_ that makes the atmosphere tense and awkward, for they're just staring at one another.

Silently.

Nagito blinks slowly at her, almost akin to a cat granting someone its trust. He repeats the action twice, all before squint rather warily, almost as if there's something in his eye. Regardless of this implication, he makes no move to fix the possible problem.

( _Nagito doesn't trust Mikan._ )

Then the nurse finds herself clearing her throat for the second time, beating her chest with a balled fist ( _and ultimately regretting it—she'll have to change as soon as possible because of all the mucus-wiping_ ). "I-I had to see if you were stable enough to be given f-food; although I must admit that giving you those supplements w-wasn't the best way of going about that, even if that's all your w-ward had."

When Nagito cocks his head, Mikan begins to tug and pull at her covered fingers. The rubber of the gloves she adorns snaps a little with every release. "Your body w-would've had a more positive reaction if the Z-Zinc was needed. Since it tasted b-bad, you should be able to eat."

Mikan moves toward the pill bottle and scoops it up, twisting around to push it back into one of the empty cupboards. She feels her second patient's eyes on her, watching her every move—almost like a hawk, if only said hawk was defenseless and at the will of any who entered the locale.

Sounds less like a hawk when you put it that way.

"You'll take the second one after you get something in your stomach." She nods to herself, as if reaffirming the statement for a little bit of solace. Not that she doesn't know what she's doing, but she's not.. equipped for this type of thing, if you will. The nurse knows but a few things about keeping a patient away from starvation, granted they weren't in dire stages like the two she'd been bestowed with.

Nagito stares for a moment longer, eyes widening; it looks as if he'd experienced an awakening or something along those lines. His fingers twitch for the umpteenth time and Mikan absentmindedly wonders if he's experiencing muscle spasms right about now. After all, he'd be out of it ever since Angie forced him to calm down and accept the fact that Mikan was a 'good nurse'.

( _She can't help but feel as if she made Angie spit out a lie for her sake. What a shame._ )

".. Thank you," the patient says. He sounds sincere, too sincere—it's unfair of her to immediately assume that he was beyond expressing empathy, much less sincerity, but he was the one making it hard. Supposedly, anyways. It could be Mikan's fault, like it typically was.

No, everyone simultaneously agreed that Nagito was a threat and, to some extent, a hazard. Not to get those two terms confused; they exist on two different planes entirely, yet Nagito manages to snag both of them and associate himself with said terms .

And, as if he'd heard her thoughts and thought it'd be nice to prove her right, he squints. Then, without missing a beat, "remnant."

She definitely should've expected that; it was practically her name to him at this point, actually. Not that she could rebuttal and snap on him a second time. That's not something she can do on command, especially since her high levels of empathy and anxiety usually keep her from opening her mouth unless prompted to do so.

So, rather than making her disappointment known and further feeding the hellscape of Nagito's mind, Mikan smiles. She places a hand on his head and ruffles his hair—he hisses, but doesn't complain any further than he already has. It's best not to react negatively, especially when it seems like he's been given.. well, more than _enough_ negativity during their stay here.

After all, if she recalled correctly, this wasn't the first time he was bound and ( _probably_ ) gagged. This was just the first time he had scars as evidence that it'd happened; speaking of which, she'll have to keep Nekomaru away from the wards for a prolonged period of time. For the safety of her patient(s).

She untangles a stressed clump near his scalp, relishing in the way he appears to temporarily become putty. He was infuriating, yes, but he's a _patient_ who definitely endured some sort of trauma. And, to some extent, this meant that he didn't despise her! Not as much as before, anyways; either that, or he was too out of it to protest. Either were fine with Mikan, as she'd be able to familiarize him with positivity.

Yes, that sounds like a good plan.

"I-I'll come back soon," Mikan says, drawing away and flashing another hesitant smile. Much to her surprise, he attempts to return the expression; then he deflates and winces, jaw twitching. ".. A-and I'll bring you some more m-medicine for your jaw. Don't talk t-too much."

"That's one way to tell me to shut up again." Nagito attempts to snark, but cups his mouth and hisses loudly. Mikan simply pats his head again, prompting him to close his eyes and huff into his palm; it takes him a while to do so, though, so he spent a good chunk of time stiffened and holding his breath. His reluctance to relax is noted.

This is a development. A good, recovery-type one, at that.

( _Thanks a lot, Angie.._ )

* * *

 **｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENT OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**NAGITO KOMAEDA's Report Card has been updated.**

* * *

Just as Mikan readies to walk past Gonta's ward, she stops. Her eyes wander a little inside, wondering if an hour has already passed—she'd spent a reasonable amount of time with her second patient, she believes. Then again, Mikan has a flimsy grasp on time, especially after all the things she'd already went through. Getting Nagito to both stop nagging her and become 'properly acquainted' with small gestures was.. something.

Then, with a sigh and a silent prayer, the nurse peeks inside of the silent ward. A good portion of her—the one oozing anxiety and other intrusive things—ponders if both of the occupants are dead, lying in pools of blood from a stab wound or something. However, she slouches and heaves out yet another sigh, albeit heavier and more relived than the one prior.

Angie laid with her cheek propped up against her elbow, a visible line of drool seeping from her agape mouth. The rays of light from the windowsill shined down on her, although that didn't seem to tamper with the fact that she was in a deep, deep sleep. She looked peaceful, even after she displayed distaste and discomfort upon addressing her wounds.

Gonta was fine, too, if the heart monitor beeping had anything to say about it. Mikan spares a glance at the timer seated on a shelf, one that definitely wasn't there before. Perhaps Angie had installed it, hence the reason why she was sleeping so peacefully? If she was going off of that logic..

It hasn't been an hour yet! Splendid, she could continue to do what she was planning to do without any interference. Well, no interference that hailed from the building she was exiting for a little while. She'd have to check up on Gonta before retrieving medicine and food for Nagito, so she had some time to kill.

.. Perhaps she should use different terms.

Regardless, the sight of Gonta and Angie being relatively safe was comforting. More than words could possibly describe, if she was being completely honest with herself. Always nice to have a moment where she can do that, failing to worry about the sake of others for just _one_ second. See it as some sort of self-care if you want a summarized explanation of her jumbled emotions.

Mikan stifles a giggle and turns away, making haste on getting fresh air while she still can. After all, it was the least she could do for Angie.

( _It's nice to be cared about._ )

It's still warm out when Mikan takes her first few steps outside. The ocean is still clear and glistening under the sun, although the beauty of it's ruined by the fact that Mikan knows what's hidden within it. Vaguely, but she knows that it's dangerous and poised to kill whoever wishes to tread those waters. Perhaps she could try asking Gundham about it, maybe even some other participant in her killing game that may know something revolving around the unknown entities.

.. On second thought, Mikan doesn't want to know. Ignorance is bliss, after all. And believe her when she says that bliss is something that comes in small doses. Sometimes it won't come along at all, which made it all the more sacred for workers like the nurse. While the others were calming themselves and playing on the beach, she was left with two ( _three, soon_ ) patients and a loaded work schedule.

She's busy, and nobody else is. The only working person on this entire island. Some things never change, as much as Angie tried to change the course of things. She took initiative, most definitely, but she wasn't awake, waiting with bated breath for the next flatline. No, she'd used a more practical way of keeping things in order.

Mikan wishes she'd thought of that. It'd be good for her soon-to-be-demolished sleep schedule.

The nurse perks up upon taking notice of the two figures before her. They're settled in the small garden area Mikan'd created whilst caring for Gonta—before the numerous amount of flatlines took place and ruined the flow of everything with their abruptness. She hadn't watered the plants budding in the garden for a good twenty four hours or so.. perhaps she should get to that.

One of the figures cranes their head to spot Mikan's dormant form, blinking a few times before slouching. A breath of relief can be heard through their mask, although the nurse still finds herself questioning if it was from relief or just a regular breath. Regardless, they lift a gloved hand and wave her over, a kind look in their eyes.

Oh, it'd be rude to refuse. After all, Korekiyo was sitting the garden with a.. friend, Mikan assumed. Neither of them were crushing the flowers she'd relocated and categorized—rowed and columned and everything beyond that. A tiny, yet grandiose garden all the same.

So, with only a little hint of hesitance, Mikan settles beside the bulkier of the duo. He's tasking himself with staring at a small marigold, one that doesn't look all that special. Regardless, he's intent on watching it, gaze unwavering and concentrated. If only Mikan could concentrate like that, then she'd stop being so clumsy and wouldn't trip over her words anymore!

( _.. That factor probably wouldn't change, actually._ )

"W-what are you doing?" Mikan asks, worry laced in her small voice. There's a hint of fear hidden beneath the surface, too, for she doesn't know Mondo and _definitely_ doesn't know Korekiyo. All she knows is that the motorcyclist is seen as violent by his peers and doesn't look the type to willingly accompany the likes of Korekiyo. And yet..

Korekiyo's current companion—bulky, with a tattoo running down the slope of one of his forearms—glances over at her for a fragment of a second. Then he's looking back at the flower, which hasn't moved aside from the gentle shuddering from a breeze.

"Taking a breather," Mondo replies after what looked to be a moment of thought—or maybe he was just _that_ focused on the flower. "Nothin' much, honestly. Just taking all of this in for a second."

Huh. What a surprise.

When she turns to Korekiyo to ask the same, they lift a hand. A dismissive one, one that makes her voice die in the back of her throat before she can even croak. She bites her tongue for the time being.

Korekiyo, on the other hand, drops their hand and hovers it over their chest. For the time being, of course, because it's not going to remain there. Not if Mikan knows a thing or two about their 'grand gestures' ( _Angie mentioned it once; she wasn't wrong, but there was definitely some misinformation thrown in there_).

They assume a gentle expression—one that can't be fully seen due to their mask, but their eyes crinkle and soften a little. Just a little, just enough for it to be noticeable if you're close enough.

"I've been trying to reconnect with others for the time being," Korekiyo replies, voice soft and retained. Nothing's changed there, not one bit. They were still quiet and soft-spoken, just as they'd been during their first conversation. The one that took place before Ibuki's trial, the one before Mikan accused them in a fit of anger and was _right._

Ah. Those aren't good thoughts. There's no need to continue thinking about those things, not when she's trying to have a somewhat civil conversation with these two.. people.

( _She'd say 'gentlemen', but Korekiyo wasn't a man._ _._ )

( _Work with what you've got, I guess._ )

The anthropologist's eyes crinkle a little more, unaware of Mikan's internal conflicts and the like. "And it's good for my research."

Well, that's ominous. Then again, it could easily be referring to the fact that they're an _anthropologist._ It's a part of the job, surely, so that'd mean that there's someone _else_ working beside from Mikan.

.. Or she was giving them too much credit and they were just being ominous all over again. Hard to tell with someone like Korekiyo, with that smug look in their eyes and whatnot.

Just as the nurse's thoughts begin to bloom, Mondo whips his head away from the flower; he looks irked, almost, as if Korekiyo had said something blasphemous or something along those lines. He juts a finger in their direction, only to be met with the same crinkled eye expression Korekiyo's plastered onto their face.

Mikan's thoughts flutter away like a petal in the breeze. Figures.

"Quit sayin' shit like that!" The biker barks. His voice booms, causing the poor, sheepish girl to jolt and scoot away some. He seems to notice, immediately slouching and grumbling out what could be considered a small apology—a simple 'sorry', but it's definitely enough to cull Mikan's worries. He didn't mean it, he wasn't looking to startle her.

Regardless, that doesn't dampen the reaction the action draws out of the anthropologist.

Almost as if a flip had been switched, Korekiyo's hand goes to their masked mouth as a chuckle escapes them. Their shoulders shake a little, the sound soon developing into a chortle. It sounds teetering, soft yet rather telling of the masked fellow's current arsenal of emotions.

Unsurprisingly, the scene ends as quickly as it begun. Or maybe it was fortunate, given the way Korekiyo waves Mondo off; the latter replies with a roll of his eyes. Although their interaction is a bit much for the likes of Mikan, she can clearly see the playfulness of it all.

They get along well, she notes. She wonders if they were in the same killing game, but revokes the statement after a moment of thought. Without their own independent emotions, they probably wouldn't be that compatible.

Mondo's rolled eyes soon flicker back to Mikan after some time—she'd taken to fiddling with her gloves for the umpteenth time, something that'd become quite.. interesting for her. A good way to relieve stress, if she did say so herself, although it was also something to keep her engaged in a conversation.

It becomes all too apparent that she's _not_ paying attention, especially when she jolts upon having her shoulder tapped. No matter how hard she tried, it's not easy to keep yourself focused on an interaction when it's not involving you in the slightest. Not anymore, at least—I mean, they were just talking a few moments ago—

"How's Gon—" Mondo cringes, bites the inside of his mouth and huffs. "How's _Gokuhara?_ " He corrects himself, gaining a small nod from his eerie, lanky friend sitting adjacent form him.

Mikan hesitates, but what else is new? She looks over at the window, catching a glimpse of Angie's sunhat peeking through the blinds of the window. It's easier to tell someone these things without looking them in the eye. "Ah, h-he's stable. He's still a-alive, and he'll be w-waking up in at least two to three days.."

A minuscule clap prompts the nurse to return her gaze to the two—the anthropologist's hands are pressed together, signalling that they were the cause of the noise. Their eyes are less crinkled than before, but are retaining that softness that'd been acquired prior to the little chuckle-fest.

"I must say, your expertise in healthcare.." They trail off, seemingly at a loss for words. Then they burst into claps once more, eyes closing in a gleeful manner—one that Mikan has trouble stomaching due to the sincerity laced deep within the expression. "It's _astounding!_ I simply can't put it into words."

Mondo spares a glance in Korekiyo's direction before copying their movements. His claps are a little slower and a lot heavier, possibly because of their differing personalities and flaws. Whilst the latter was a lot more in control of their movements, the former was a bit more.. brash, one could say. There was a violent undertone to his clapping, but it was clapping nonetheless.

He doesn't say anything, in contrast to Korekiyo's praise, but the additional clapping is enough to fluster the poor nurse. She cradles her face in her hands, letting out a strangled noise that'd built up in the caverns of her throat—hell, she didn't even _know_ what that noise was, it just came out because she was being appreciated.

And, as anyone with anxiety would do when they're being appreciated, she shook her head. "W-wait, it's nothing, really! It's a-all because of my Ultimate.." She attempts to reason, but it doesn't seem to get through to the two. If anything, it makes them clap a little louder and a little more harsher, all while maintaining their respective expressions.

( _They're not buying that, apparently._ )

The nurse squeaks and fans at her face; a futile attempt to calm down, one would say, but it worked well enough in the past. She rambles mindlessly under her breath, far too focused on winding down from her euphoric rush to notice the two's hands returning to their 'neutral' positions. Korekiyo intertwines their hands and clenches, whereas Mondo fists the grass at his sides.

Korekiyo observes her intently, then inquires, "how have you been keeping Gokuhara-kun in check, hm? I suspect that it's no easy task, given how he fainted like so."

They tilt their head to the side when Mikan jumps, points at herself and squeaks again. Seems like she'd spaced out a bit—no, no, she was just _really_ focused, that's all! Strange how she wished to be concentrated like Mondo mere moments before, only for said wish to be her downfall when someone else tried talking to her. Perhaps she should stop trying to wish for things..

Yeah, that sounds about right. No more wishes, no matter how tempting it may be to wish to get out of this situation safely. For all she knew, she could die in her sleep because of one of the motives!

Mikan shudders away the thought, letting it leak from her brain and into the soil beneath her. There are other things to worry about, like properly answering Korekiyo's question without giving away information that could lead to Gonta's untimely demise. She fiddles with the hem of her uniform, thinking over the words that'd formed in her head.

Then, after some thought and minor revisions, Mikan replies, albeit reluctantly. "E-every hour requires.. a lot of medicine, most of w-which being concentrated on keeping his h-heart from stopping periodically for prolonged p-periods of time. Not only t-that, but an overhaul of liquid substances n-need to be given to him hourly, too.." She bites her lip, wondering if she said too much.

Judging by the mortified look on Mondo's face, she probably did. To no surprise, Korekiyo retains a calm demeanor about their person, simply straightening their back when Mikan's gaze falls upon them once again. She notes another unique difference in their personalities, yet they manage to coexist so nicely.

In a way that's far too similar to Angie and Mikan, perhaps? No, neither of them were constantly fretting that the other would choose to dispose of them. That is, not on a visible level. Not like Korekiyo seemed to hold any malicious thoughts, nor did they seem to care too much about such trivial matters—and Mondo simply didn't look the type to be bothered, but Mikan could be wrong.

She's been wrong before. It wouldn't be the first time, that's for sure.

Mondo beats his chest, seemingly choking on his words for a good second. He then properly clears his throat, attempting to fix his face. It only works a little; the mortification is still there. "Uh, is that.." He makes a few gestures; Mikan stares blankly, eliciting a sigh from the motorcyclist. "Is that _safe?_ "

Mikan looks at him, then the windowsill, then back to him. "It's the only way to prevent another flatline."

( _Oh, she didn't stutter that time! Goodie!_ )

( _Wait, no, not goodie—that is not goodie at all._)

Korekiyo, before Mondo bursts into a fit of confusion and unrelenting _anger_ , interjects. They hold up a hand and furrow their brows, looking a little less collected than they did before. If they weren't wearing a mask, the nurse reckons that they'd be frowning—yeah, that sounds about right. You wouldn't be smiling if one of your companions' caretaker said something about 'another flatline'.

"F-flatline?" Their voice wavers, cracking a little due to the stress they've put on the word. They then place their outstretched hand over their throat and squeeze it gently. "I'm sorry, could you.. expand.. on that, Tsumiki-san? Just so I understand the severity of Gokuhara-kun's situation."

Mikan jolts before lifting her hands, waving them about frantically. Oh, she'd gone and given them the wrong idea! She should've known they'd take it that way—nobody just collapses without warning ( _well, there was some warning.._), it had to have some underlying affects! But heart failure definitely wasn't one of them, his heart was completely fine! It was all Monokuma's fault, that's the thing she needs to tell them!

"W-well," the forsaken stutter's back, "I suspect Monokuma's t-tech is purposefully design to f-flatline patients on an hourly basis. His h-heart is perfectly fine, nothing's wrong with it.. but there's s-something with the hospital tech that just.." She makes a gesture with her hands, opening and closing them before tugging at the hems of her gloves. 

"What, the little shit can't just stop at making us kill one 'nother?" Mondo spits venomously, fists tearing clumps of dirt and grass from the garden below. He doesn't seem to be aware of the tiny amount of destruction he'd caused until Korekiyo places a hand on his shoulder, patting gently and tentatively—he immediately lets go of the items and pats them into the spot of removal.

He apologies for the second ( _or possibly third_ ) time during their meet. Mikan suspects that he underwent a fate similar to hers; being condemned to apologizing, to being a bit too empathetic for one's own good because of something they'd done or participated in.

Maybe this is another coping mechanism, comparing herself to others. She wouldn't know.

All she knows is that she can relax, if only for a little while, in this little garden. There's a dirt patch beneath Mondo's hand, and Korekiyo's leg is hovering dangerously close to one of the flowers, but a garden is a garden.

It's a temporary solace for them, Mikan thinks. She won't take it away from them.

* * *

 **｡･ﾟﾟ･** ( **HOPE FRAGMENTS OBTAINED!** ) **｡･ﾟﾟ･**

**KOREKIYO SHINGUJI & MONDO OOWADA's Report Cards have been updated.**

* * *

They sit in a comfortable silence as soon as Mondo culls himself. The breeze pairs nicely with the gentle heat of the sun, which beams down on them graciously. There are no clouds in the sky, nor is there a block of darkness or the like. Just a sunny day on an island that felt like it never stopped raining.

The irony of it all.

Korekiyo brushes a hand against the casing of their pocketwatch; they keep it there, seemingly hesitant to check the time, then pop it open. It ticks brokenly and melodically, akin to a damaged music-box. They inspect it for a moment, all before looking up at Mikan and nodding toward the hospital towering behind her.

"I would suggest returning to Gokuhara-kun." They twist the pocketwatch around, holding it open for both Mondo and Mikan to lay their eyes upon—it doesn't mean much to either of them, if only because they're not the ones with constant access to arrival and departure of others.

Upon realizing this, Korekiyo makes a low snuffing noise and clamps the item shut. They return it to its place of rest, all whilst pulling their legs closer to their chest and stating, "an hour has nearly passed."

Ah. Mikan freezes, life draining from her face near immediately. She kicks off the ground abruptly, nearly stamping on a nearby dandelion with her haste. She bows her head with the grace of a frantic bird, feathers ruffled and eyes wide in complete and utter _panic_. "O-oh! Thank you, but I have to go now! Bye!"

She practically twirls around when she dashes into the hospital once more, the doors clanging behind her. Faintly, she can hear the two resume a conversation—one that'd been taking place long before she'd arrived and been invited to talk with them for a short period of time. Or maybe she'd spent half an hour with them, talking about Gonta's condition and the things that were so _horrible_ about it.

Mikan wouldn't know. She's not the one with the watch, nor is she the one with a grasp on the thinning concept of time.

( _Mondo leans against the wall of the building. Korekiyo watches, eyes lidded as they listen to the loud ringing of a timer somewhere within the building. Nearby, likely, given how there's a loud thump and a sudden burst of laughter hailing from one of the rooms. It is soon followed by hacking coughs and loud words of concern._ )

( _Korekiyo tilts their head at Mondo. "Do you think Ishimaru-kun would enjoy relaxing with us?" They question, sincere as they could possibly be._ )

( _Mondo's eyes widen and he lifts himself up, no longer slouching uncomfortably. "Y'never know until you try!"_ )

( _Korekiyo laughs at him. They're friends. They get along well._ )

* * *

**___________________**

**___________**

**____**

**Chapter Three: A Good Day To Die - PART TWO**

**SURVIVING STUDENTS: 21**

**Nagito Komaeda's Report Card Update:**

_While the male is far from pleasant to be around and is extremely malicious, Nagito just needs some care and quality time. Nothing too serious, concerning the fact that he probably still wants to see Mikan dead where she stands, but she swears to do her best as the Ultimate Nurse to.. well, nurse him back to health! Just have to hope he doesn't skin her in the process.._

**Korekiyo Shinguji's Report Card Update:**

_Even though they're_ _eerie and can easily make one uncomfortable, Korekiyo is actually quite nice to be around. They come off as apathetic at times, yes, but they do care. They inquired a bit on Gonta's current state of being before informing Mikan that she should go check up on him. They're extremely helpful when it comes to stuff like that, too! She'll have to repay the favor one day.._

**Mondo Oowada's Report Card Update:**

_The biker is far from someone Mikan would want to deal with; yet, she finds herself at ease in his presence, aside from the few times where she'd been caught off-guard by his violent tendencies. Definitely something she'd need to get used to seeing, or something he'd need to work on at the very least, but he's a good guy. Some anger management classes could do the trick, though.._


End file.
